


This Love Sticks To My Skin

by anextraordinarymuse (December_Daughter)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:03:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 21,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/December_Daughter/pseuds/anextraordinarymuse
Summary: This is a repository of my Philinda prompt fills on Tumblr, as well as shorter one-shots.Some are related, but they all have one thing in common: the love and relationship of Philip Coulson and Melinda May.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: if you are still doing Philinda prompts would you be up for a phone call between them after the gas station in A Funny Thing Happened and Melinda asking him if he's eating donuts again?

She’s going cross eyed from the amount of paperwork she’s processed today, and even halfway across the country Coulson somehow manages to know that she needs a break.

Melinda May’s cell phone starts to ring. She’s not supposed to have it - it’s a security risk considering the kind of paperwork she handles - but most of the office has already gone home and she doubts anyone is brave enough to tell her no. 

“May,” she says without looking at the ID. 

“You know a full tank of gas in this car costs me seventy dollars?”

“That’s why you have a corporate charge card,” May points out dryly. She tucks the phone between her ear and her shoulder and keeps working.

“Not the point.”

“You love that car.”

The static of plastic packaging masks the first part of his response. “… but it’s no Lola.”

Melinda finally stops what she’s doing and leans her elbows on her desk. She puts her hand back to the phone so she can straighten her neck and smiles slightly when she asks, “Are you eating donuts?”

There’s a pause and then Phil says around what is clearly a mouthful, “No.”

“You know those things are terrible for you.”

“I only have the one package.”

“No you don’t. You have powdered and chocolate because you couldn’t decide.” 

There’s a pause before he speaks again. “Melinda?”

“Hmm?”

“I have powdered sugar on my suit jacket.”

May snorts. She always misses him when he’s gone, but this is what she misses the most: these easy conversations, and knowing that whatever trouble he gets himself into she’ll be there to get him out. 

Phil doesn’t ask her to come back, but this is how he keeps her with him. 

One day, she thinks, she might be ready to go back - but not yet. 

“That’s what you get for eating in the car.”


	2. Inside My Heart There's a Space (Now You're Home)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casualsketchpaintingfan asked: Philinda prompt for how proud they are of the kids??
> 
> Anonymous asked: Philinda and how they haven't noticed how they've become parents to the kids.
> 
> Gonna combine these two. 
> 
> Also - I’M SORRY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IT JUST RAN AWAY WITH ME. ANGST AHOY … with a happy ending.

When Jemma proposes her idea to go undercover in Hydra Phil resists. There are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong before they’d even know that there was a problem. He’d hate the idea no matter who proposed it, but he hates it more because it comes from Jemma. Sweet, gentle Jemma.

“She can’t lie,” May points out.

“Or fight,” Phil agrees. “We’d be throwing her to the wolves in a meat suit.”

Melinda furrows her brow at his turn of phrase. He shakes his head and waves his hand in a wordless version of “forget about it”.

“I can teach her.”

Phil turns on his heel to stare at his partner. “To fight?”

“And lie,” May answers. Then, she amends, “or at least to tell half truths.”

“May - you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? Jemma is.”

“You know why she’s doing this.”

Of course Melinda knows. She knows how it pains Jemma to see what Fitz had done to himself to save her; she knows the guilt that wears at the young woman’s heart. Melinda also knows what it’s like to think the only good thing you can do now is remove yourself from the equation.

May doesn’t say anything.

They debate it for the rest of the day, until Phil is forced to admit that Jemma would be in a unique position to gather intel. His stipulation is that she’ll have back up in there. They have another agent he knows of undercover in the organization; Phil will get a message to her about Jemma.

He hates the plan, but Jemma doesn’t waver. She’s almost relieved when Phil tells her that she’s going in. She nods gratefully at May when Phil informs her that she’ll be learning basic combat and subterfuge skills before she goes.

“Jemma,” Phil says when the practical matters have been taken care of. “Have you told Fitz?”

The young woman grimaces and looks at her feet. May will have to work with her on that. The sorrow on her face when she looks up again is raw.

“No, sir.” She doesn’t say that she intends to, either, which Phil doesn’t miss.

“Maybe you should.”

Jemma only responds with, “will that be all, sir?”

He nods. “That’s all.” When she has a hand on the door handle, though, he finds himself compelled to say, “Jemma? Don’t give up. I know it seems impossible, but you guys will pull through this.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” She’s so different from the Jemma Simmons that first stepped foot on the bus - sadder, and more worldly.

Phil watches her form retreat down the hall until she’s out of sight. “Everyone deals with trauma in their own way,” he says to no one in particular.

“Do you think Fitz will forgive her?” May asks quietly.

Phil fixes his gaze on his partner. “I know he will.”

But they have a long road ahead of them.

 

* * *

 

 

Daisy is laid low by the sudden discovery and loss of her parents. She handles it well, but no one who knows her could look at her and believe her unchanged.

Her father had driven himself insane in an effort to be what her mother wanted, and to atone for the sin of failing his family; her mother had tried to kill her.

Daisy’s afraid the real damage is unseen. She’d turned on May: the woman who had trained her, mentored her … who had been more of a mother than Jiaying had.

Daisy seeks May out days after it’s all over. The older woman spends so much time behind closed doors with Coulson that it’s hard to get to her, so Daisy does the only thing she can think of: she ambushes her in the only place she knows May will be.

Coulson isn’t in his office, thankfully, because Daisy’s not sure how he’d feel about the way she just waltzes in and pins May with words.

“I made a mistake,” Daisy announces.

Melinda glances up from her spot near Coulson’s desk, and her face is the same calm mask that Daisy has come to know so well. May isn’t surprised or upset to see her. She simply puts down the file in her hands and stares at her.

“I was wrong to attack you. I shouldn’t have taken sides - I should have tried to find a better way. I’m sorry, May.”

Daisy fidgets with her hands. She’s at a loss to say anything else because she doesn’t think she can adequately express just how deeply sorry she is.

May steps around the desk and approaches with the same calm expression. She’s so unflappable and steady, and Daisy admires that about her.

“I know,” May tells her.

“You do?”

“She was your mother, Daisy. You’d finally found your family. I don’t blame you for wanting to protect them.”

Daisy snorts and glances away in something close to shame. “Yeah, well, look how that turned out. My own mother tried to kill me. So much for all that blood is thicker than water crap.”

Unexpectedly, May smiles at that. “People always get that one wrong.”

“What?”

“It’s ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’.”

“What … what does that mean?”

Daisy is surprised yet again when May puts a hand on her bicep. The touch is short lived, but Daisy can count the number of times that Melinda May has physically tried to reassure her on one hand and doesn’t dismiss the gesture.

“It means that sometimes family is something you choose, and not something you’re born into.”

Daisy hugs her then. May hesitates for a breath and then hugs her back.

“Thank you,” Daisy whispers.

When Daisy has made her exit, May says, “you weren’t searching for a file at all, were you?”

When she turns it’s to see Phil leaning against the door frame of the small records room that’s attached to his office. The way he’s looking at her makes her heart do uncomfortable things.

“She needed that,” is his only answer.

“How did you know she’d show up?”

“Call it a hunch.”

Phil studies her a moment longer. May thinks she knows what it is she sees in his eyes: it reads like home, like safety and loyalty and acceptance. It reads like family.

And love.

 

* * *

 

 

Death comes for Phil Coulson again on a Thursday.

By some divine provenance he knows the end has come, and manages to send them all away with some convincing words and promises that he’ll be here when they get back.

Only Melinda isn’t fooled. She waits for the room to empty and then grabs one of his hands in her own and cradles it against her chest. She cries unashamedly.

“Help them to forgive me,” Phil says.

Melinda nods. Her heart beats against his hand as though it’s strong enough to sustain them both.

“Don’t retreat, okay?” When May doesn’t respond he continues. “Promise me, Melinda. You need each other. Promise me you’ll take care of them. That you’ll let them take care of you.”

“I promise,” Melinda whispers, and all the while wonders if her heart will stop beating the moment his does.

His second death is nothing like his first: he goes quietly with the woman he loves by his side.

Melinda’s heart keeps beating, but only because she’d promised him it would.

He’s been gone for a month when Melinda finds the video file on his computer. “Watch together” is all it says, and May curses at him but - as always - does as he asks.

May, Daisy, Jemma, and Fitz are crammed together on the couch, and Mack and Elena are standing just behind it. Fitz plugs the HDMI cable into the laptop and projects the video onto the seventy-five inch television screen.

Phil’s face appears. He’s smiling that knowing smile of his, and for a moment it’s like he’s not gone at all.

“Before you get mad,” Phil says on the video, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Daisy says heatedly.

“I know you’ll say you don’t care, Daisy. It’s okay. I know you do - you all do. And you have to know that I care, too. I care about all of you, and that’s why I couldn’t let you stay. There was never going to be a right way, or a good way. There never is when the people you love leave you.

“I’m sorry I’m not there,” he continues. “The only thing that makes this bearable is knowing that you guys have each other. Hold onto that. Nothing is more important than family.

“Fitz, Simmons - you’ve both come so far. I hope you know that I never could have done it without you guys. You never cease to amaze me with your intelligence and heart. Protect each other, okay? No matter what happens, don’t give up on each other. It’s all worth it, even the hard parts.”

Fitz puts his arm around Jemma’s shoulders and she turns her face into his neck and cries.

Melinda is crying, but she won’t look away for anything.

“Mack, for the last time, would you stop trying to quit?”

A chorus of tearful, broken chuckles punctuates the momentary silence.

“We know you don’t mean it, and we wouldn’t let you go even if you did. Thank you for your loyalty and friendship. Keep being a voice of reason, okay? Our friendship meant a lot to me.

“Elena, I’d tell you to keep him honest but I know you will. Be a light for them. Make them laugh even when they don’t want to; especially when they don’t want to. It was an honor.

“Daisy …” On screen, Phil stops and glances down for a long moment. When he lifts his gaze again there are tears in his eyes that he doesn’t bother trying to hide. “The best thing about family is that you can never have enough. I should have told you that you’ve always been a daughter to me. You have so much heart, and so much try. Don’t ever lose that. Keep going - it might feel like you can’t, but you can. I promise. And listen to your mother.” He grins at them.

Daisy tips to the side and collides with May, then drops her head onto the other woman’s shoulder. May lays her cheek against the crown of Daisy’s head, and they stay that way.

“I love you. All of you. I know I didn’t say it, but I hope I showed it. Our team - our family - gave my life meaning. I’m so proud of each and every one of you. Fight the good fight - be the shield.

“Know that I’m with you, always.”

Phil reaches forward and his arm is visible at the edge of the camera, and then the screen goes black. No one speaks; the only sounds are subdued crying.

Melinda doesn’t take her eyes off the screen. Daisy stirs next to her and lays a tentative hand on her forearm.

“But …” Fitz starts, and Jemma quickly shushes him.

The screen flickers back to life. Phil is in a different outfit - he doesn’t look bad, but the poison had clearly been taking its toll on him when he’d filmed this.

“If the rest of you are still there, this is your one warning: if you thought I was mushy before, you might want to leave.” A pause; Phil sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I know you’re angry, Melinda. At me, at the situation, at everything. It’s okay. Be mad - and then move on. Please, for me.

“I must have started this a hundred times now. There’s so much I want to say - so much I should have told you when I had the chance - and so little time left.” He sighs again and stares into the camera as intensely as if he knows that May is staring back. “I …” a tear slides down his cheek; on the couch, Melinda is crying in earnest. “I love you, Melinda. You know it - you’ve always known it, because you know me better than anyone else - but I should have told you. I should’ve said it. I should find you right now and tell you before this is all that’s left, but I can’t. I know it’s not fair for me to tell you now, when that door can never be more closed to us than it is now, but … damn.”

He wipes away his tears and his frustration is evident. He paces for a minute, at odds with himself, and it’s the first real sign of how angry this situation must have made him, too.

“This will never be enough, but it’s all we have left. I’ll just say this: you mean everything to me, Melinda. There’s a will in my desk drawer - you know how old fashioned I am. Everything I have is yours.”

“Damn it, Phil,” Melinda whispers.

“Take care of our family. You’re better at it than you know. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side - take your time, okay? You can whoop my ass later.”

There’s a moment where it looks like he wants to say more, but he thinks better of it and just shuts off the camera.

Phil has managed to bring them together again, to encourage and sustain them as he always has - had. They’re bruised and aching, but for the first time since Phil’s death Melinda knows they’ll be okay.

She’ll make sure of it.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s absolutely impossible for him to be standing in front of her, but he is.

She’s hallucinating. She has to be.

“Did you miss me?”

She isn’t.

“You son of a bitch.”

She runs right at him and knows even before he opens his arms that he’ll catch her. She kisses him, hard.

“Is that a no?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Philinda + Body shots

Once, when they were shiny new agents in an organization that was still undivided, Melinda had teased him about body shots.

They were in that sweet spot between their newfound friendship and Andrew’s arrival in the picture (not long after The Unforgettable Bra Incident™). 

Phil’s mission had gone long and worse than he’d expected, but better than it might have. He’s sitting outside the Triskelion and just taking it all in: the people passing by on their way to and from different offices, the Comms guys in smart business attire, the Specialists mostly in what Phil thinks of as their “combat gear”.

He’s not even sitting in a proper chair: he’s sitting on the upraised edge of the courtyard fountain with his jacket discarded next to him. He can feel the light spray from the falling water collecting on his back and dampening his shirt, but he doesn’t care.

Phil doesn’t know Melinda is there until she drops down into the spot next to him. Their shoulders brush; she doesn’t speak, even to say hello. 

“I made a mistake today,” he says after some time. “I almost got someone killed.”

He doesn’t speak loudly, but the gravitas behind the words - in his heart - makes him feel like he’s shouted it across the grounds.

“But you didn’t,” Melinda points out.

“We got lucky. It could have gone the other way in the blink of an eye, and I couldn’t have done anything to stop it. I couldn’t have saved him.”

Phil squints a bit and watches people pass. He’s had a headache all day from lack of sleep, and thinking ceaselessly about the incident like a dog worrying a bone. 

“Then use it,” Melinda says. “Learn from it.”

He finally glances at his friend. Her face is neutral, but Phil has been learning to read her better and thinks he reads the softness in her eyes correctly. She doesn’t pity him - that’s one thing he never has to fear from her - but she accepts his heaviness as if it were her own. She treats his concerns and confessions with respect and sincerity, always. 

“Come on.” Melinda slides off the edge of the fountain and waits for him to stand. He’s slow to respond, and then does so more by autopilot than conscious decision. “You’ll drive yourself crazy if you stay here.”

Phil gives her a funny look. “The courtyard?”

She gives him an unimpressed, you-know-what-I-mean look. “Here,” she says, and taps once, lightly, on her temple. 

He sighs. She’s not wrong, so he grabs his suit jacket and tosses it over his arm instead of putting it on. He’s not on duty, and he does still have on his tie. 

Melinda starts walking just a moment before he reaches her side, so she’s a few steps ahead of him (but he’ll be caught up in seconds). She’s headed back into the building when he’d expected her to head away.

“What do you have in mind?” he asks.

“You know what you need, Phil?”

“No?”

“Body shots.”

She can’t see him, but his next step falters and then stops. Melinda keeps going; when he finally catches up, there’s a sly grin on her face. 

As it turns out, Melinda’s version of body shots means going three rounds on the gym mats and getting his ass whooped. 

(He does get a few hits in, thank you very much.)

* * *

Simmons is harried and flustered when Phil shows up in the med bay. May is on the opposite side of the room with her back turned on all of them, and it’s clear that the older woman has been giving Jemma a hard time. She’s stripped down to a thin tank top and leggings, so she’s been back long enough to change (which Phil knows she did before coming to the med bay). 

She’s a difficult patient. 

“She won’t let us help,” Simmons explains when Phil stands next to her.

He offers her a kind smile. “I know.”

Phil crosses the room. He stops close behind May, but leaves enough room for her to move. 

“May.”

She doesn’t sigh, but her shoulders sag. He waits her out. She doesn’t make him wait long, finally turning and meeting his gaze. There’s a huge bruise running along the length of her jaw on one side, and a cut that’s almost the entire length of her collar bone just below said bone. 

She’s trying to stitch herself up again. 

Phil doesn’t say anything. He reaches for the needle and she hands it over without comment. Then he retrieves the bio-sealant and the Q-tips, and doesn’t even bother wondering how many times they’ve been here before. 

Behind them, Jemma doesn’t know whether to be irritated that the woman who had been glaring her into submission and refusing to cooperate just moments ago has gone from angry hellcat to complacent house cat in a breath, or fascinated that she’d only done so with Phil’s arrival. 

“You got something against using this?” Phil asks as he applies the bio-sealant. 

She doesn’t respond. Phil makes sure that he’s taken care of one wound before assessing the other. He puts a crooked finger under her chin and his thumb along the uninjured side of her jaw and turns her face toward the light. There’s no broken skin around the bruise, but it’s a doozy. 

“I made a mistake,” she admits. 

It’d gotten Daisy into a bit of trouble, but nothing more. Only May had been injured. Phil doesn’t point it out. 

Instead, he says, “Then use it.”

She turns her head but he doesn’t immediately drop his hand. They stand there and stare at each other for long moments, remembering the same thing - one day out of their lifetime of days together - and forgetting that there are more people in the world than themselves. 

“You know,” Phil finally breaks the silence, his hand falling away from her chin, “I’m starting to think you don’t know what the words ‘body shot’ really mean.”

He gives her that look - that patented that-was-a-good-one-and-you-know-it look he’s so good at - and May lets herself crack a small smile.

Phil is nearly to the door and out of the room when May says under her breath, “Maybe you should teach me.”

Melinda promises herself that one day she won’t wait until he’s leaving to say such things. 


	4. 5 times Phil and Melinda succeeded at being Covert (+1 time they Failed Miserably)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Prompt: # times Philinda almost got caught being lovey-dovey and 1 time they actually get caught.

_**One** _

 

They don’t consciously decide to keep their developing relationship a secret - it just sort of happens. Their chain of command is less like a chain these days and more like a Celtic knot. Phil’s not the Director, but the team has always looked to him as their leader and that’s not something he takes lightly. He doesn’t think they’ll care, necessarily, but what he has with May is so new that he’s uncertain about sharing it yet.

May’s just private by nature.

That’s not to say, however, that they’re great at keeping the two halves of their lives separate (or that they care overly much about doing so). Phil is terrible at this.

He’s a tactile man, and that impulse to touch - to initiate and maintain contact - only increases with their intimacy. He’s careful about it for the most part, but May does notice that any time they’re alone his hand will find its way to her sooner rather than later. His favorite spot seems to be the small of her back.

It’s this propensity for touch that almost gets them caught the first time. 

Phil sends May, Elena, and Mack out on a mission that ends with a rather nasty fist fight. They all take a bit of a beating, and Phil is waiting for them the moment they get back. 

“Simmons is waiting for you in medical,” Phil tells them.

Melinda doesn’t attempt to follow Mack and Elena as they disappear down the hall. She knows enough to wait; Phil brushes the hair away from her brow, which is cut and already bruising, and then rests his hand against her uninjured cheek. 

“I’m fine,” she reassures him gently. “You should see the other guy.”

Phil smiles, but May can sense the displeasure that lingers behind it. He hates when she’s injured, but he’s trying not to be overbearing. She’s never been fond of excessive attention when she’s injured. Phil is the only person whose attention she can tolerate in such situations, because she can trust him not to go overboard. 

They’re standing close together - closer than they would have before - and Phil’s other hand has found its way to her hip. May is about to say something when Jemma’s voice cuts her off. 

Phil manages to step away milliseconds before Jemma turns the corner. 

“Here you are,” Jemma says. “I was worried when you didn’t show up with Mack and Elena. Oh, sorry - am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Phil says. “She’s all yours.”

And that’s all the fussing Coulson does. Melinda is grateful for that. 

He does bring her a cup of her favorite tea later that night, though, and doesn’t wake her when he gets up the next morning. 

 

* * *

 

  _ **Two**_

 

It’s not always the big things that threaten to get them in trouble. More often, it’s the quiet moments that run the biggest risk of discovery.

(Inch by inch, Melinda has been reacquainting herself with the parts of her that she forgot existed after Bahrain. It’s a long road, but she travels it easier with Phil.)

“That is  _not_  what you said,” May insists, and she’s grinning.

“Yes it is.”

“No, you said ‘May I persuade you to try this coffee’ and almost blew our cover.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Phil counters, and he’s doing his damndest to keep a straight face. 

They’re making breakfast together, and that had prompted May to ask, “hey, remember our first mission together when you almost ruined everything by using my name?” Twenty minutes later and they’re still arguing over it. 

Melinda has turned herself so that she’s parallel to him and can see his face, and he tries to accommodate for that by keeping his expression neutral.

It’s barely six thirty in the morning and she has her hair pulled back and a spatula in one hand, and they’re both in their pajamas and staring sickeningly at each other. 

“Who doesn’t like coffee?” Phil teases. 

“What did they teach you in Communications, anyway?” May fires back. 

Phil is leaning over to kiss her when a bleary eyed Daisy stumbles into the kitchen. He straightens up so quick his back pops. May is convinced they’ve been caught - not that she particularly cares - but Daisy just blinks and passes a hand over her face. 

“Are you guys making breakfast?”

“Pancakes,” Phil says. 

“I still hate mornings,” Daisy grouses.

Melinda knows that the cat will be out of the bag sooner rather than later. 

She’s in no rush.

* * *

 

_**Three** _

 

They really need rooms with en suite bathrooms. 

It’s close to two-thirty in the morning and Melinda wakes because she has to pee. She’s taken to sleeping in Phil’s shirts (and little else); it’s late so she figures she can make the quick trip down the hall to the bathroom without encountering anyone. She slips on a pair of house slippers - also Phil’s - and opens the door quietly so she doesn’t wake him. 

She has to hide in the bathroom for an extra ten minutes because Mack and Fitz are not only awake, but decide to stop in the hall and argue about what May assumes is a video game. 

“Everything okay?” Phil asks sleepily when Melinda slides back into bed.

“We’re getting our own place,” she grouses. “I’m tired of living in bases.”

“Okay.” 

Phil’s asleep again before he’s finished saying the word. He only remembers the conversation days later.

“Were you serious?” he asks when he does.

“House or condo?” Melinda replies. 

Turns out they both prefer a house.

* * *

 

**_Four_ **

 

The team is accustomed to the ways everyone communicates with one another. They know that Fitzsimmons has a language and a way of talking that no one else can follow when they really get going, just like they know that Phil and Melinda have a tendency to say things to each other that make it seem like they started this conversation ten years ago. They don’t question it.

That’s not to say it’s not strange to hear one conversation, but feel like they’re having a different one entirely. 

Daisy, Fitz, and Simmons have just been briefed on the parameters of their newest mission and their expected roles and are about to leave when May says, quietly but not secretively, “not that one. Too crowded. We need more space.”

The three of them exchange glances, because no one had been talking - the conversation was over - and yet she’d started like she was addressing a question that Coulson hadn’t asked. 

It’s Jemma that glances over her shoulder in time to see the way Coulson’s expression softens and a small smile tugs at his lips. He steps closer to May, and that’s not unusual for them but he gets closer than Jemma expects (but not, apparently, closer than May expects). 

“Melinda,” Phil says quietly. 

The fondness in his voice hits Jemma square in the chest. She knows that undercurrent of  _something_  that carries away his words: she hears it in Fitz’s voice when they’re alone, and feels it in her bones when she tells him she loves him. 

May and Coulson are standing no closer when Jemma follows her friends out of the room, but Jemma knows better than to believe there’s any space between them. 

She doesn’t mention it to anyone.

* * *

 

_**Five** _

 

Their mission goes south, as field ops have a way of doing, and May is going in to get their people out. 

“I don’t like this,” Phil says.

“Not overly fond of it myself,” May agrees. 

Mack is on edge and ready to start arguing all over again about how he should be going with her. He’s on standby - they all are, really - but the hope is that May can get in unnoticed. 

Phil is so tense and on edge that it makes his skin crawl. It feels like Bahrain, and if he realizes that then May must as well. His instincts are ablaze with the need to stop this, to make her stay out of it, and he’s managed to quell them - until now. Everything about this feels like Bahrain all over again, feels like a trap, and he can’t get past it. 

(He’s not thinking about the right things. He should be thinking like an agent, like the Director, but he’s failing. Instead, he’s thinking that just yesterday May pranked Daisy with a bucket of water over the doorframe; he’s thinking that she lets the kids hug her now, and is warmer than she has been in so long, and that if something like Bahrain happens again he might not get her back a second time.

He’s thinking like a lover, and a friend, and May won’t thank him for that.)

“I’m going,” he announces.

And yeah, May is going to murder him, or mutiny, or … something.

“What?”

“I’m going,” he restates firmly. “You and Mack stay here unless and until you’re needed. That’s an order.”

“You aren’t the Director,” May starts.

“That’s an order, Agent May.”

S.H.I.E.L.D hasn’t quite recovered and they’re still fragmented, and May is right that he’s not the Director. No one is at the moment. Habits are hard to break, though, and Phil knows that even if they’re nothing else to each other they’re still partners - he knows that May will listen. 

He fears that he’s damaged them. He can handle that; what he can’t handle is seeing all of the progress that Melinda has made washed away.

He can’t handle losing her to that darkness again. 

Mack is gone and they’re alone now, but Phil hardly notices. The tension between them is electric, and not in an enjoyable way.

“I know what you’re doing,” May says tightly. She’s so mad her mouth barely moves with the words. 

“I’m sorry,” he answers. He steps into her personal space despite her anger and reaches out a tentative hand to brush his fingers along her jawline. It’s a fleeting touch, and if she’s angry enough with him it might be his last. 

Mack returns just as Phil drops his hand. “It has to be now.”

They drop Phil into the melee. His last glance at Melinda shows him lips pressed together so tightly they’re bloodless and a hard gaze. 

* * *

 

_**\+ 1** _

 

“You were way out of line!” Melinda yells. 

“I know,” Phil says as best he can. The livid bruising on his throat isn’t the only evidence of his nearly crushed windpipe: his voice is scratchy and fades in and out against his will. 

They’re facing each other in the middle of the room, and there’s really nothing private about the confrontation. Anyone within a thirty foot radius can probably hear May and the room doesn’t have any proper doors, but she’s mad as a hellcat and clearly doesn’t care about privacy. She’d ambushed him the moment Simmons had finished patching him up. 

“Never mind the fact that you aren’t actually the Director, what the hell made you think you could abuse your power like that?”

“May –.”

“Your job is to be indifferent,” she spits at him. 

“Melinda –.”

“You have to make the hard decisions, Coulson, you have to …”

“I have!” Phil yells. It lacks the force it’d normally have, when his windpipe isn’t damaged and bruised, but his voice holds strong for those two syllables and finally stops her. “I have made the hard decisions,” he reminds her. 

They’re both angry now, and Phil can’t yell but there’s nothing quiet about what’s happening. He takes a step forward, the smallest chunk taken out of the abyss that currently separates them, and stops. 

“I’ve stayed behind when I knew I could help. I’ve sent good people to their deaths, and put my friends in danger, and kept going anyway because I  _had_  to. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me to be indifferent. I have never been indifferent; I will never be indifferent.”

May takes the tiniest step forward. Phil knows that she’s taking stock of him even now: his good arm is fractured in two places and in a sling across his chest, his bottom lip is split in the corner and bruised, and a butterfly bandage covers a gash on his cheek. She’s taking stock of him, and his injuries only fuel her ire. 

“I know that I made you stay for the wrong reasons,” he admits. “I know that it was wrong. But I thought …”

“I know what you thought,” Melinda says finally, and her voice is noticeably softer. 

“I panicked. I weighed the consequences and made a decision, and let me tell you - it wasn’t an easy one. But I couldn’t risk another Bahrain. I lost you once, Melinda, and that darkness … I know it’s not my choice, but I can’t lose you to that darkness again.”

He breathes out heavily. They’re still miles from each other (figuratively and literally, it seems) and the tightness in his chest has nothing to do with his injuries. 

May finally drops her arms, which have been tightly crossed over her chest since nearly the start of their fight, and sighs quietly. She takes another step toward him.

“Indifferent wasn’t the right word. But the only way this works,” and here she motions vaguely between them, “is if we’re partners.” She takes a deep breath and Phil instinctively steps closer. He knows that sigh: it heralds a confession, a moment of vulnerability. “You can’t treat me differently, Phil.”

“But you are different.” His throat has had enough and his voice wavers. “You’ve always been different, Melinda.”

Another step. They’ve closed most of the distance between them, but Phil hardly realizes it. His gaze is fixed on Melinda’s face, on the softness that he can see slowly spreading across her expression. The tension is leaking out of her bit by bit, and it makes him hope. 

“You made a mistake,” she says.

“I made a mistake,” he affirms. 

May reaches out to put a hand on his face and brush her thumb against the skin below the injury on his cheek. He takes a chance and puts his uninjured hand on her hip and exerts the smallest amount of pressure. She concedes and steps into him, stopping only far enough away that she won’t crush his arm. 

“It’s not easy to send the woman you love into the dragon’s den.”

His voice is so weak and scratchy now that he knows he won’t be able to talk at all tomorrow. 

Melinda’s face does something remarkable at the admission: it illuminates, and she smiles a crooked little smile, and there is nothing cold or withdrawn in her eyes. 

“By the way: I love you.”

“I know,” she murmurs.

May kisses him, a tender press of their lips, and then another, and another. 

Phil starts to grin. “Was that a Star Wars reference?” he asks delightedly. “Did you just Han Solo me?”

Melinda smiles then. It’s both intimate and radiant, and the tight thing in Phil’s chest finally loosens and dissipates. 

“Well,” Mack says from the doorway.

They don’t move, but Phil and Melinda turn their heads simultaneously to see the rest of their team hovering just outside the doorway. Daisy is grinning smugly; Jemma might be crying.

“Best way to end a fight, if you ask me,” Fitz quips.

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma chides. 

“Don’t mind us,” Elena says as she physically herds the others away. 

The feeling of Melinda’s gaze on his face is what makes Phil turn his attention back to her. She kisses him again. 

“I love you, too,” she says. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But if you ever do that again –.”

“You’ll kick my ass,” Phil finishes. 

“You’re damn right I will.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Philinda moving into a new house/apartment (with Daisy pls!!)?
> 
> This one ties in to the previous chapter.

They buy a house on the outskirts of the suburbs. Melinda wants a big yard and more than ten feet between them and the house next door, so they have to look farther out. Phil had originally been concerned that it might be too far from the base - “What happens if we get called in for an emergency?”, to which Melinda had replied it was only a fifteen minute drive - and then they’d went in for a tour. 

Game over.

Seeing it in person is a formality for Melinda. She already knows she wants it. Phil steps over the threshold of the front door and immediately falls in love, though. 

“Wow,” Daisy mutters, and she’s clearly impressed with it too.

May doesn’t quite smile, but she watches carefully as Phil wanders away from her to investigate.

Daisy goes the opposite way. 

“This is a beautiful kitchen,” Phil says from one room.

“This bathroom is bigger than your office,” Daisy calls from another.

Just then, Fitz and Simmons let themselves in through the French doors that lead out onto the back patio.

“There’s a pool!” Jemma’s beaming.

“We need a pool,” Fitz tells her. 

“Think about the maintenance costs, though.”

“There’s another house for sale down the street,” Daisy points out as she emerges from the master bedroom. 

“Oh,” Jemma says uncertainly, “we wouldn’t want you to feel smothered. I mean, we already spend ninety percent of our time together –”

“Families are meant to stick together,” Phil points out.

“Don’t hold out on our account,” May adds, and they’ve known her long enough to take it for the agreement it is. 

And really, that’s all that needs to be said.

“This house is huge.” Daisy’s head is tipped back as she surveys the nine foot ceilings. “I love the layout.”

The master bedroom is all alone and takes up the entire left side of the house; the kitchen, laundry room, and other three bedrooms are on the right side of the house; the two halves of the house are separated by a foyer, living room, and formal dining room. 

“Why four bedrooms though?” Daisy asks. She moves over to the French doors that open to the yard and stares out at the green grass that stretches beyond the patio. “I love all the natural light.”

She doesn’t see the look that Phil shoots Melinda, or the answering quirk of her lips. 

“Well, we figured we’d turn one of the bedrooms into an office,” Phil explains. “And we’ll need a guest bedroom.”

“That’s only three,” Daisy points out. Then, turning to face them with a saucy grin, “is the other one on stand by for a nursery?”

“Well, you’re a little old for that, if you ask me,” Phil shoots back with a grin, “but it’s your room. Do what you want with it.”

Long seconds of silence swell to fill the room. Daisy just stares at them with her mouth hanging slightly open. 

“What?” she finally manages to whisper.

“You’re a grown woman, and we’re not your parents, but … well, one of the rooms is yours, if you want it.”

Daisy turns disbelieving eyes on May. She’s been silent since they stepped into the house, really, but it’s her silence in this that prompts Daisy’s uncertainty. 

“You’ll always have a home with us, Daisy,” May says.

It’s probably one of the most sentimental things May has said to her in a long time, and one of the most direct. 

Daisy rushes at her. She opens her arms and then collides into the older woman and wraps them around her tightly. May hesitates for a second before returning the hug. She’s still adjusting to sharing physical affection with them, but she’s getting better.

“Thank you,” Daisy whispers into May’s hair. “That means everything to me.”

“I know,” May answers. 

Phil calls in an offer as May drives them back to the base in the SUV. Jemma, Fitz, and Daisy are in the back debating the merits of owning a pool because, as it turns out, the house down the street has one as well. 

“Think of the pool parties,” Daisy says. 

“You have your own pool,” Fitz retorts.

“There’s no such thing as too many pool parties.”

May shares a smile with Phil. 

Their offer is accepted the same day. Phil is the one to tell Daisy, who squeals and throws her arms around him. 

“I’m gonna paint!” 

* * *

Fitz and Simmons buy the house down the street. 

They’re collectively away from home a lot, but when they are there it’s exactly what they’re used to: the door opening and closing without preamble as Fitz, Simmons, and Daisy breeze in and out at all hours of the day. May’s serious about security, so she insists on locking the door when they’re not there and at night - after the second time that Jemma knocks on the door at three a.m. Melinda gives in and just makes them their own keys. 

Mack and Elena come by often, too, because Phil insists on family dinners any week that they’re home long enough to have one. 

It’s just like it’s always been, and it’s perfect. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Philinda+first speeding ticket
> 
> This one is written in third person past tense. Just a heads up since the other ones are written in present tense.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Shut up.”

“You know I can’t make this go away. This is gonna stick.”

“Shut up, Phil.” Melinda kept both hands on the steering wheel and stared resolutely ahead of her. 

Behind them, the sound of a door opening and closing could clearly be heard. May glanced in the side mirror to see the police officer approaching and silently thanked God they were dressed like civilians for once. 

“I let you drive Lola one time …”

“Evening, folks.”

“Evening, officer,” May replied with a smile. Phil nodded in acknowledgement and smiled as well.

The officer - Hadden, according to his nameplate - studied them both for a second. Then, “license, insurance, and registration, please.”

Phil leaned forward to retrieve the requested information and then handed it to May, who passed it along dutifully.

“Where you lovebirds off to in such a rush?” Officer Hadden asked as he perused the registration and insurance card. 

Coulson opened his mouth - May cut him off.

“Home,” she answered. “Our kids are giving the babysitter hell. Do you have children, Officer Hadden?”

He laughed. “Four. Three boys and two girls, and they’re a handful. You?”

“Three, and they keep us on our toes.”

“While I certainly understand how much trouble kids can be, speeding is still against the law, Mrs … May.”

“I understand, sir, and it won’t happen again.”

Officer Hadden glanced up and down the dirt road they were on. There was nothing but corn fields and farms to be seen in either direction, and they were the only two cars on the road for miles. May wanted to demand to know how he could pull her over for speeding when there wasn’t a posted speed limit in the first place, but thought she’d be better served by keeping that observation to herself. 

“I appreciate that, ma’am, but I’m afraid I’m still gonna have to ticket you. We take speeding seriously in Illinois, and you were going seventy five.” 

Next to May, Coulson made a little sound of disbelief in the back of his throat. 

“I’ll be right back and then you can be on your way,” Officer Hadden said, and walked back to his car.

“Seventy-five,” Phil said immediately. “Wait until Hunter hears about this.”

“Breathe one word of this to anyone else and I will set your Captain America sheets on fire.”

Phil was undeterred. “Mack won’t appreciate the babysitter comment.”

“Not. One. Word.”

When the officer returned he gave May back the documents he’d requested and a one hundred and fifty dollar speeding ticket. 

“You folks have a nice evening. Just do it at forty-five or slower, huh?”

“I’ll do my best to remind her,” Phil couldn’t resist chiming in. “This one’s always full speed ahead.”

Officer Hadden grinned and, after wishing them a good evening again, disappeared. 

“Full speed ahead?” May deadpanned.

Coulson ignored her. “Drive on, dear.”

* * *

“Still can’t believe you’re on vacation,” Daisy said later over the webcam.

“Didn’t even think May had that word in her vocabulary,” Hunter called from somewhere out of sight.

“It’s not a vacation,” May responded. “It’s a reconnaissance mission.”

“Never heard of Coulson taking Lola on a recon mission before,” Mack said.

“Who would go to Illinois for vacation?” Jemma asked. 

Fitz’s head popped into the frame sideways. “If it’s not a vacation, I’ve designed a ne…”

All of a sudden, Mack yelled, “Hunter! What the hell was -,” and the screen went black. 

A heartbeat of silence passed. Coulson mused out loud, “Make that four kids. And Mack is definitely the babysitter.”

He closed the laptop and set it aside to watch as May finished her pre-bedtime stretch routine. 

“Lovebirds?” he queried.

A coy smile tugged at May’s lips. She crossed the small space that separated them. “It’s not my favorite word,” she said, stepping into the space between his open legs and wrapping her arms around his neck. “But technically he was right.”

“Technically?” Phil tipped his head back to grin up at her. “Just like this is technically a recon mission?”

Melinda dropped her head and kissed him lightly. There was a noticeable air of playfulness about her that she rarely let out, and Phil delighted in it. 

“Exactly. And Phil?”

“Hmm?”

“If you tell anyone about that speeding ticket, I will whoop your ass.”

“Technically?”

“Literally.”

She dragged him into the shower with her then, and the last thing on his mind was a speeding ticket. 

(When May tried to pay the ticket online it kept giving her an error message. Phil’s only response when she asked him about it was a sly, “I said _I_ couldn’t make it go away.”

“Hey lovebirds,” Daisy greeted them not ten minutes later, and Melinda’s glare was the stuff of legend.)

 


	7. Coulson Can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wasn't a prompt, just something I that got stuck in my head.

There’s a bit of a running gag in the team that Phil Coulson can do anything.

It starts innocently enough: Elena professes doubt over their latest mission because it requires convincing an Inhuman that what they think is helping people is actually hurting them. 

“No one can convince someone of something if they’ve made up their mind not to believe it.”

“Coulson can,” Fitz says with perfect faith.

And he does.

It just keeps going from there. “No one can punch through a metal door,” Mack says.

“Coulson can,” Jemma retorts.

Somehow it takes on this element of the silly that no one remembers starting, but everyone keeps going. It’s an inside joke that’s somehow both reassuring and lighthearted. 

“Can anyone get this blasted jam jar open?” Jemma demands one day after her fifth failed attempt to get into the preserves.

“Coulson can,” Daisy says as she breezes by. 

(That particular instance causes a windfall of the team bringing Phil random jars or things to open because Daisy makes an offhand comment about how funny it would be if everyone just collectively decided that he was their resident Opener-of-Things. It gets a little out of hand: they interrupt him on phone calls, and walking down the hall, and while he’s buried behind mountains of paperwork at his desk. They eventually stop making up explanations and just hand the jar or whatever to him wordlessly, then disappear when he returns it.

“What’s with the jar thing?” he asks May after a week or so of the behavior.

“Beats me.”)

The fact that they’ve made it into something silly doesn’t change what it is at heart, though: it’s a fact, and a mantra, and a reassurance. 

(They get a visit from an angry, mislead Asgardian who literally brings down a building with Coulson still inside. Mack is physically holding May back, and they all stand in mute horror as the dust settles on the mountain of rubble. Jemma is crying.

“No one can survive that,” Elena whispers.

“Coulson can,” May says, and nothing but an act of divine will can keep her from going to him.

He survives, but just barely.)

It takes the team a little while longer to realize that the “Coulson Can” phenomena extends to the most unexpected place: the realm of Melinda May.

“Hey, has anyone ever noticed how Coulson can get May to do just about anything?” Daisy points out one evening.

“Of course,” Elena answers.

At the same time, Mack says, “no he can’t.”

And, it turns out, he can. He can talk her in to resting when she’s sick, and coax a smile from her, and get close to her in ways and at times that no one else can. 

Mack only changes his tune later, when exposure to a neurotoxin renders May temporarily incapable of walking, thus stranding her in the field. 

“Alright, I’m carrying you,” Coulson announces without preamble.

“The hell you are,” May fires back indignantly. “You need to take the team and get out of here, before we all end up like this.”

Of course, Coulson ignores her. He just hands his tactical gear to Mack, bends down to slide one arm around her back and one behind her knees, and proceeds to carry her bridal style. 

“See,” Coulson says slyly, “Told you I could sweep a woman off her feet.”

“This is humiliating,” May responds, but she can’t completely hide her smile. 

“You’re right, I should have tossed you over my shoulder. Lesson learned.”

May laughs - l _aughs!_  - and Mack has to renegotiate the world a little.

(”Okay,” he admits later. “You were right. He made her laugh! Did you see that?”

“Yeah, we were there too,” Daisy reminds him.

“But she laughed!” Mack exclaims.)

No one is surprised when they start seeing May leaving Coulson’s room in the mornings, or the way they stand practically on top of each other when they think no one’s looking. Their conversations are peppered with the domestic now too.

“I have to finish that damn expense report, but I don’t know where I put it.”

“You fell asleep with it, so I put it on the table.”

The joke dies down, but the underlying belief in Coulson’s ability to do the unthinkable or impossible remains. He’s the lynchpin of the family, and he keeps them (and everything else) going and together.

Because if anyone can do it, Coulson can.

(They keep bringing him random jars to open, though.

“Seriously? What is it with the jars?” he demands.

May just gives him a little grin and presses a kiss to his cheek as she leaves.

He never does figure it out, so maybe there’s one thing he can’t do.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Thank you so much for all of these wonderful philinda prompts you're blessing us with. They're AWESOME and exactly what we need to get through the hiatus. Trying-to-be-covert Philinda and them buying a home and living together with their family. <3 Too much for one heart haha! If you're still accepting prompts, will you consider this? X Number of Times Phil and Melinda and Daisy and/or FitzSimmons get mistaken as legit biological family (not that they aren't already) :) Thanks so much!

**_One_ **

 

“Shopping.” Phil repeats the word like he’s never heard it.

“Shopping,” Daisy affirms. “Like at a real mall, where they sell clothes in colors other than black.”

“What’s wrong with black?” May asks as she approaches from the other end of the hall.

“Nothing, if you’re going for that I can kick your ass super spy thing, but some of us might want to change it up sometimes,” Daisy replies. 

May bites back a smile and doesn’t point out that Daisy is the one who chose the black tactical gear of a specialist for her uniform. 

“Are we having a meeting?” Jemma calls. She’s stuck her head out the door of the lab and, expectedly, Fitz’s appears as well.

“Not exactly,” Coulson says.

Simultaneously, Daisy says, “Yes. I’m proposing a non-S.H.I.E.L.D sponsored shopping trip.”

Jemma lets out something close to a squeal and practically skips over to them. “I haven’t been on a proper shopping trip in ages.”

“No,” Coulson says.

“Come on, Coulson,” Daisy goads. “Just a few hours. It’ll be like a day off. You remember what those are, don’t you?”

“I do need a new jumper,” Fitz adds. He’s come to join them as well and shares a look with Jemma. 

“What could it hurt?” Daisy asks.

The look Coulson gives her is hilarious. “If we were talking about anyone else I’d be tempted to say nothing. But with you three -.”

“That’d be asking for a disaster,” May finishes dryly. 

“Is that a yes?” Jemma queries. 

Phil glances at Melinda, who raises a brow, and sighs. “I feel like I’m going to regret this, but yes. You can go.”

Only it’s not just the kids that go; somehow, he and Melinda get roped into going as well. 

They’ve been in the mall less than an hour when, yeah, Phil regrets it. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

Phil turns to find a security guard standing behind him. He looks at Melinda and she glares at his “I told you so” expression.

“Can I help you?”

The guard asks, “Are those your kids?”

Phil sighs - he’s gonna kick their asses. “That depends on what they’ve done.”

* * *

 

**_Two_ **

 

They take in several new agents to accommodate their growing responsibilities. It’s disconcerting at first to see all of the new faces. 

It’s more disconcerting when they start talking.

“Agent Johnson?”

Daisy turns to find a young man standing just behind her. 

Fitz and Simmons pause in their conversation. 

“What’s up?” Daisy asks.

“I, uh, I think your mom is looking for you.”

There’s a pregnant pause in which three sets of eyes just stare at the young man. 

“Mother,” Jemma finally repeats.

From not far behind them May’s voice rings out, “Daisy, there you are.”

Fitz snorts, and Jemma does her best to rearrange her face to get rid of the smile, and Daisy just stands there. 

“Everything okay?” May asks as she comes to a stop in front of them. 

Daisy clears her throat. “Fine,” she manages in a strangled voice. 

May wonders why Fitz and Simmons are laughing as they walk away, but figures it has nothing to do with her and lets it go. 

Daisy nearly calls her “Mom” once and barely catches herself. “Mo-ay,” sounds ridiculous and gets her a weird look from her mentor, and Daisy makes a note to find that damn kid and smack him.

The idea doesn’t go away though.

* * *

 

**_Three_ **

 

That idiot agent is gonna get more than smacked, Daisy decides later. She’s gonna terrorize him, or play practical jokes on him until he’s scared to leave his room, or … well, something.  

He’s gone and run his mouth to his friends, but Daisy doesn’t find that out until later.  

Until she’s standing in Debrief and enjoying one of the few easy moments she gets with Coulson these days, and that moment is ruined.

Daisy has just finished reporting on her mission and Coulson has delayed her long enough to have a real conversation. Daisy misses this; she misses life on the Bus.  

She misses when things were just them.

A young woman that Daisy has spoken to in passing – maybe shared a joke or two with – comes barreling into the room. She’s talking before she registers Coulson’s presence, or at least that’s the only explanation Daisy can come up with for why she says what she does.

“Daisy, I had no idea the Cavalry was your mom!”

Reflexively, Coulson and Daisy say in unison, “Don’t call her that.”

Daisy is embarrassed, but the other woman (she thinks her name is Amy) is mortified. She stumbles over her apology and quails under Coulson’s gaze, though his expression isn’t particularly intimidating.  

Then, Amy spins on her heel to beat a hasty exit and finds none other than Melinda May standing in the doorway.  

May arches a single brow and, yeah, Daisy feels a little bad for her. She knows what it’s like to be at the other end of that gaze.  

“I’m so sorry,” Amy says.

May just steps to the side and lets the girl run from the room. Daisy is ready to get a glare of her own, but her S.O shakes her head once and crosses the room to hand Coulson a folder.  

“Looks like we have our next lead,” May says, and that’s the end of it.  

* * *

 

**_Four_ **

 

Jemma has learned how to lie.

Phil doesn’t have as many opportunities to work with Jemma in the field as he does with some of the others, especially now that fieldwork is technically out of his realm of responsibilities.  

They needed teams for this one, though, and the man that Coulson’s pretending to be has a daughter. They don’t know a lot about said daughter, but they know enough to know that Jemma is a good fit for the role.

Phil had felt some private concern over the operation – he remembers the last time he and Jemma had tried to play a father daughter duo – but May had reassured him that Jemma would be fine.

As in so many other things, May is right.

Jemma has changed. She’s no longer that naïve kid that stepped foot on the Bus a lifetime ago. She’s grown, and learned, and changed. She’s sure of herself outside of the lab; she’s steady in unfamiliar situations.  

“Good evening, Mr. Schuh,” the concierge greets them. “Miss Schuh.”

Phil and Jemma enter the hotel lobby. They’re after an illegal trade ring that deals in Inhumans rather than drugs or weapons. Jemma had called their target a slave trader and volunteered immediately.

“We’ve got eyes on the target,” May says in their ears.

Phil can’t respond because a tall, dangerous looking woman has approached them. She smiles at them both, but hones in on Jemma.

“This must be the elusive Holly Schuh,” she says as she extends a hand to Jemma. “You weren’t lying when you said she looks just like you, Alexander.”

Jemma smiles and shakes the other woman’s hand without breaking eye contact. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Jaquelin.” The other woman narrows her eyes. “You have an accent.”

“My ex-wife insisted on boarding school,” Phil says.

“As lovely as a trip down memory lane would be,” Jemma interrupts before they can get off course, “my father says you and I have a business matter to discuss, Jaquelin.”

“Keep her talking, Simmons,” Daisy says in her ear.

Jemma turns to Coulson and puts a hand on his bicep as she leans forward to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. She uses the opportunity to whisper, “blue suit, back corner.”

Phil watches her leave with Jaquelin, the rumored mistress of the ring leader, and then discreetly searches the room. Sure enough, there’s a man in the back corner in a navy suit that’s doing a bad job of disguising the fact that he’s watching Phil.  

He gets to work.

Jemma sells the father-daughter act, and they’re in and out with what they need in less than two hours without anyone the wiser (including Phil’s failure of a tail).  

“That’s your ‘I-told-you-so’ face,” Phil tells Melinda when they regroup at the Playground.

“No face,” Melinda retorts.

“I know that face.”

Phil thanks Jemma for a job well done and doesn’t let himself linger over the thought that she only knows how to lie now because she’s had to learn to do so to survive.

He tells himself that the important thing is that they’ve survived.  

He’ll do anything to make sure they keep surviving.  

* * *

 

**_Five_ **

 

Sometimes, when she has something to think through, Daisy will seek out May.  

The first time Daisy had done it May had tried to draw her out. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that, for whatever reason, she just wanted to be where May was.

She knows Daisy well enough now to know when she wants to talk and when she doesn’t.  

Tonight is one of those nights. May is nursing a cup of tea in one of the smaller rooms off the kitchen, alone and relaxing in the half-light. She glances up when Daisy enters and watches as she picks a spot in one of the corners and lowers herself to the ground. She doesn’t speak, so neither does May.

Melinda doesn’t reflect the way Phil does, or as much, but she does reflect. This tendency of Daisy’s does things to May’s heart. On the one hand, Melinda is flattered: Daisy seeks her out because May provides her something that she needs. She thinks it’s either safety or comfort, and either way that’s more of a compliment than May knows how to deal with.

On the other hand, May hates seeing Daisy like this. She makes herself smaller in moments like this and May knows that the behavior is a remnant of her childhood.  

Melinda sees her like this and has to blink away the image of Daisy as a child, alone and scared – sad.

She wants to help, so she keeps her silence. Sometimes, opening her mouth only makes things worse.

Daisy finally speaks. “Coulson has a will.”

May doesn’t point out that most of them do. It occurs to her that Daisy might not.

“It was on his desk,” Daisy continues, “out in the open where anyone could read it. I tried not to but then I saw my name, and yours. Did you know that if Coulson dies, we get everything?”

Melinda’s heart shudders in her chest at the mention of Coulson and death in the same sentence. “He told me.”

The conversation had come up when Phil had been carving alien symbols into everything he could and worrying about his sanity; after he’d made her promise to kill him if he lost his mind. 

It’s not a good memory.

“Well he didn’t tell me. Why would he do that?” 

Daisy lifts her eyes to focus her gaze on May, who is still sitting at the table. Her tea is long gone, but her hands are still around the cup. 

“You know why,” Melinda replies. 

There’s a long pause. Then, “Doesn’t that scare you?”

May doesn’t need to think about that. No, it doesn’t scare her. What scares her is the thought of ever needing that will in the first place - the thought of Phil Coulson’s death (first or last).

“I don’t intend on ever needing it,” May says. She can see the way Daisy’s face falls at her non-answer, though, so she gets up from the table and goes to sit next to Daisy. “No, Daisy, it doesn’t scare me.”

Daisy doesn’t ask her why. She doesn’t say much else, actually, and Melinda takes the risk of reaching out to put a hand on Daisy’s knee.

They sit together for a long time.

* * *

 

_**\+ 1** _

 

Melinda sweeps her gaze over the room in assessment. The floor is covered in mats and her students are arranged in pairs throughout the space. They’re working through the advanced hand to hand combat moves she’s been teaching them all week, and most of them look good. She’s hopeful there won’t be any washouts.

The door swings open and Amaya, one of her senior Specialist students, lets herself in. “Ma’am?”

“What is it, Amaya?”

“Your fam -.”

Amaya is interrupted by the door swinging open again to reveal a beaming Daisy. Fitz and Jemma are right behind her, and just behind them is a smiling Phil. 

May is exasperated, and she knows her expression shows it. She also hears the quiet murmur that goes up between the students. 

“That’s Quake!”

“Holy shit, is that Director Coulson?”

“What are they doing here?”

May ignores them all. “I thought I told you four-thirty,” she says.

Daisy grins and hugs her when she’s close enough. May hugs her back, and Fitz and Jemma as well, and glares in the face of Phil’s grin.

“You did,” Daisy answers. “But we got here early and thought we’d crash your class.”

“And we thought we’d drop in on the new Science Division,” Fitz adds. 

“Fitz heard a rumor that they have a monkey,” Jemma says. 

“Great, get out of my class,” Melinda responds dryly. 

They start to filter out again, though Phil hangs behind.

“We’ll meet you back here in an hour,” Daisy calls over her shoulder. “Dinner is at six. Mack and YoYo will meet us there.”

“Dinner?” Melinda repeats.

“Didn’t think we’d forget the Matriarch’s birthday, did you?”

Melinda rolls her eyes as the kids disappear again. It’s an old nickname that Daisy had started that had somehow stuck. She’s never admitted it, but Melinda has a hunch that Daisy had wanted something to replace the Cavalry - and it has, though from time to time someone still uses the other one. 

“You didn’t even try to talk them out of it, did you?” Melinda asks Phil.

“Never said I would.”

She can hear her students gossiping - about her birthday, and the handful of S.H.I.E.L.D heroes that just waltzed into and out of the class, and even the fact that the Director has stayed back to talk to her. 

Melinda knows she’s gonna be fielding questions about this incident for days. 

“Excuse me?”

Melinda and Phil turn their eyes to the door again to find an agent they don’t recognize in the doorway.

“What can we do for you, Agent?” Phil asks.

“Were those your kids that just left?”

Phil and Melinda look at each other. In unison they say, “That depends on what they’ve done.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: philinda just being adorable trash :) bonus if the team is there with them

“This isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever asked you to do. This isn’t even the stupidest thing I’ve asked you to do  _today_.” 

Melinda glares at Phil. “I hate that you can say that.”

“It’s not that bad, right? May?”

She ignores him in favor of slapping her hand, which is holding the taped end of a streamer, against the wall with more force than necessary. 

“This is ridiculous,” May gripes. She climbs down off the small step stool and glances around the room. 

“But needed,” Phil counters. He moves closer to her and smiles softly in the face of her disapproval. “We deserve a break, May.”

He glances down at her injured leg. The wound is hidden and has stopped bleeding through the bandages with a few days’ rest, but May still limps a bit when she walks. 

May doesn’t argue with that.

An hour later Phil sends May out to gather the team. They’ve managed to come back to a time before the Playground was blown up, which is a stroke of luck and somewhat confusing, so he doesn’t question it. 

Phil waits in the kitchen. He hears them before he sees them: Daisy wondering what’s up, Fitz wondering if he’s finally gonna be surprised with a monkey, Jemma laughing … 

It’s good to be home.

The kids are the first to round the corner, followed by Mack and Elena. May is in the back. 

Daisy reads the hanging banner on the wall and starts to laugh.

“Congrats on not dying,” she says out loud.

“Are we having a party?” Jemma asks.

“Something like that,” Phil answers. 

“And you’re on board with this?” Mack asks as he turns to look at May.

“She helped decorate,” Phil says before she can fire off a response. 

They collapse onto the couch or in nearby chairs, and Phil passes around a couple of beers. He picks one of the round armchairs he likes and smiles at May when she drops into the matching one right next to him. 

“I vote to never do that again,” Daisy starts.

“Seconded,” Fitz and Jemma say in unison.

They sit around for hours, talking and joking and just generally decompressing. They haven’t had a day like this in years, or close enough to make no difference. Their time in space - in the grim future they’re all determined to fix - has worn them all down. 

Phil looks around and knows they’ll heal, though. They have each other, and that’s enough. 

“Still think it’s a stupid idea?” Phil mutters to May. Everyone else is talking and laughing, and their side conversation won’t be noticed. 

May narrows her eyes a bit, but the effect is undercut by the one-sided smile that she tries to hide. “For the record, I was talking about decorating.”

Phil laughs. “Noted.” There’s something thoughtful in her face, though, an idea or question that weighs so heavily on her mind that Phil can feel its weight. “Everything okay?”

May swirls her beer a bit and then trains her eyes on him. She’s leaning forward a bit, and she angles herself toward him a bit more so that they can face each other more easily. “I keep thinking about the future,” she says quietly. 

“And?”

“And what I want it to look like.”

Phil’s heart trips in his chest, and then speeds up. May’s gaze is so intent on his face that it makes it hard to breathe. Her hair is falling forward over her shoulders and in this moment her face is free of worry, and she’s so soft … no one who really knows her could ever mistake Melinda May for being hard. 

But his heart doesn’t know if it’s beating out of fear or anticipation: she’d expressed doubt in her place before - what if she’s gotten into her head to leave?

“Yo, Coulson!”

He startles and turns to find Daisy grinning at him. Even Jemma and Fitz are amused; Mack and YoYo at least have the decency to try to hide it.

“What?”

For reasons he doesn’t understand, they all start laughing. He furrows his brows and glances at May. She’s smiling, though her smile seems to be aimed at everyone else. He’s definitely missed something.

The moment passes and May doesn’t bring it up again, and Phil thinks it’s just another in the long list of discussions they’ve half started and might never finish.

Except May stays when everyone else has dispersed. The room has been mostly cleaned and all of the bottles discarded, but Phil is thorough and likes to be sure they’re not inviting any pests. 

When he turns away from putting the last few beers in the fridge May is behind him with one hip propped against the counter. They smile at each other.

“They needed that.”

“Just them?” Phil teases.

“We needed that,” she amends. 

He bites back the “I know” at the last second. May knows him so well that she smiles anyway. 

She’s been smiling a lot lately, he’s noticed. 

May pushes herself off the counter and turns so that her back is to it; Phil moves closer on impulse. 

“What you said earlier, about the future?” he says. May nods once, so he continues. “What did you mean?”

_Please don’t say you’re leaving._

May tips her head to the side. Her hair sways a bit behind her shoulders, a dark waterfall, and for a minute in his mind she’s young and teasing him again. 

May takes a breath. “I meant that I’m tired of always taking a step back,” she says softly. 

Phil’s heart screeches to a halt. Everything goes quiet around and within him as he stares at her face. 

“I think it’s time to take a step forward,” May continues. She reaches out one small hand and presses her palm against the middle of his chest. “I want to take a step forward.”

And, well, Phil has always been a man who knew when to follow directions.

He kisses her, softly at first, testing the waters. He wraps an arm around her waist when she responds, cups her jaw with his good hand - his real hand - when her chest heaves with a deep sigh, and loses himself.

A throat clears from the doorway. “Yeah, when I said get a room I meant a private one.”

But Daisy looks triumphant when she leaves, and Phil is too high on the woman in his arms to care. 

He tips his forehead down until it rests against Melinda’s. “So, that’s what the laughter was about.”

“Laughter?” Melinda repeats with a twinkle in her eyes.

Phil cups her face in both hands and kisses her again, until the edge of the counter digs into Melinda’s back and they’re both breathless. 

He kisses her because he knows he can, because he wants to take a step forward, too - a hundred steps forward, as long as they’re with Melinda. 

“No more steps back,” he promises.

“No more,” Melinda agrees.

The future is looking brighter already. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: hey if you are still doing philinda prompts, could you do one that shows how May takes care of Coulson while he's sick and they finally confess their feelings?Preferably set after 5x10. THANK YOU <3

The poison will kill him - but that’s not the worst thing.

The worst thing is that the poison is degenerative. 

Phil tries to carry on, and at first he does. It happens so fast, though, and he degenerates so quickly that it only takes days for him to be confined to bed rest. 

Not that he’s ever believed in bed rest.

An hour or two of activity, on his feet, requires double that of rest. May is the one to finally talk sense to him. She gets him to “lead from a bed”, as he calls it, though he makes everyone update him regularly. 

May only leaves his side when she absolutely needs to; if she’s in the building she’s with Phil. He tries to push her away at first, but she ignores him. She’s always been good at that. 

Phil starts to sleep more - entire chunks of the day lost to unconsciousness - and when he wakes up May is always there. 

Then he starts to vomit and everyone knows what no one will say: Phil Coulson has reached the end of his second life. 

He wakes one night - maybe morning, the days have stopped making sense to him now - and rolls to his side to see May perched in a chair next to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles. 

“Where should I be?” May asks. She talks more now, and they both know it’s only because she won’t be able to say anything to him soon. 

Phil pushes himself up on shaky arms and slides back until his back is propped against the wall. The poison has spread so far that the dark lines of poison are visible on his neck. He doesn’t vomit this time - May thinks that might be worse. 

“Don’t do this,” Phil says. His voice is scratchy. “Don’t do this to yourself, May.”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she plants her feet and leans forward to brace her forearms on her thighs. There’s nothing to say, really. 

“I’m not leaving, Phil.”

“Staying will only hurt you.”

“Leaving will hurt worse.” She whispers it but it feels like she’s screaming. 

“Melinda …”

“I love you.”

The words fall out of her mouth and fill the space between them. May keeps her eyes on his face and doesn’t retract her words, doesn’t try to mitigate or hedge them in any way. 

“I love you, too,” Phil finally says.

“Then quit telling me to leave. I told you I was with you to the end of the line, and I meant it.”

“I know.” 

She shucks her chin at him. “Move over.”

May climbs onto the bed with him and Phil, already exhausted again, scoots down to lay his head in her lap. 

“I’m sorry we don’t have more time,” Phil whispers. 

“Rest,” Melinda says. 

She wishes they had more time, too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: can you write melinda kissing phil and him pushing her away bc he doesn't want to hurt her since he's dying?
> 
> Gah, this is just painful. Why did you do this to me, anon? Why did you do this to us? 
> 
> Owwies ahead.

To want is a dangerous thing. The human race has torn the world apart - has torn themselves apart - in their pursuit of the things they want. It’s the driving force behind ambition, and greed, and selfishness; it’s one of the hardest things to control. He has learned this first hand. 

He’s learned that he’s no exception.

Phil is a dangerous man. He’s lied, threatened, and killed his way to this moment, and though he might argue his intentions behind those acts it doesn’t change them. He is a harsh, dangerous man …

And Phil has wanted Melinda May for nearly half of his life. 

A want like that, he knows, could destroy the world. 

Melinda kisses him in a darkened hallway with all the gentle vulnerability she hides, and Phil almost lets the future die for it. Her lips are soft and seeking beneath his - everything he  _wants -_ but he can feel his body failing even now and knows that his want will ruin her. 

Maybe even ruin the world, if what YoYo said is true. He wants more time, and they want to save him, and their wants rip the world apart. 

So, Phil doesn’t return the kiss. His heart withers and quakes in his chest to know what his refusal of her will do, how it will hurt her; his resolve strengthens to know how it would hurt her to walk down this road and have him die. He can only do something about one of those things. 

It’s the right thing to do, but the look on May’s face lays him to waste. She doesn’t understand and he can’t tell her - he’s dangerous and harsh, but he can’t be cruel. Not to May. 

 _If we save you it’ll be the end of the world_ , YoYo had said. 

As the woman he’s loved for most of his life walks away, crushed and aching, Phil tells himself that he’s doing the right thing. 

The best thing that he can. 

He watches May until she disappears and clenches his fists against the urge to cry out her name, to bring her back or chase her down and repair what he’s just damaged. She’ll think it’s her - that there’s something wrong with her - and that will kill him faster than any poison. 

Phil feels like it’s Melinda May or the world, and that shouldn’t be such a difficult choice …

But, oh, what a dangerous thing - to want. 

 


	12. A Little R & R

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is actually kind of old - I wrote it like a year ago, I think? It's not a prompt, but I figured it belonged here. =)

* * *

“Seriously,” Daisy whispers, “someone has to do something.”

She glances from Jemma to Fitz, who immediately throws both hands up in a gesture of submission.

“Don’t look at me,” he says quickly. “I tried to ask her if she was …”

Fitz trails off as something behind Daisy and Jemma catches his eye. They turn to see what’s caught his attention: it’s Coulson virtually herding a reticent May through the corridor in the relative direction of their rooms. 

“Sir?” Jemma asks as they approach.

“Make sure she isn’t bothered for the next twelve hours, please.”

May’s face transforms like she’s about to protest, and a rare thing happens: Coulson places a hand on her bicep without more than a quick glance at her, and May swallows her reply. 

“Is anything the matter?” Fitz asks.

Coulson smiles. “Probably just a twenty-four hour bug.”

“If you need anything,” Jemma chimes in immediately, “let me know. If you’re not feeling better tomorrow I’d like to run …”

May starts to glare and Coulson nudges her - nudges her! - into motion while keeping his attention on Daisy, Jemma, and Fitz. 

“Thanks, Simmons.”

Fitz waits until they’re farther down the hall and then whispers anyway, for good measure. “Don’t envy him.”

“I’ve never seen May get sick,” Daisy says.

“I hope she’s okay,” Jemma adds.

* * *

Melinda May is rarely ill, but Phil has known her for a long time. He’s familiar with sick May. 

They walk all the way to her room in silence. She never has been much for talking when she doesn’t feel well, and that’s okay. Phil opens the door for her when they arrive and tells her in a comforting, firm voice to get ready for bed. 

Never mind that it’s just after noon.

He leaves her to get comfortable and heads down the hall to the kitchen. May’s room is bigger than most - a reflection of her status - but it doesn’t have a kitchenette like Phil’s does. So, he starts for the kitchen and then has another day that makes him detour to his room. He retrieves all of the paperwork that he needs to catch up on, which is a substantial stack of mostly expense reports and supply requisitions, and then heads back to the kitchen. He finds the biggest coffee mug in the cupboard and brews a steaming cup of chamomile tea. 

When he’s done he heads back to May’s room. He knocks, waits a breath, and then lets himself in. May is sitting at the end of her bed in yoga pants and a black cotton t-shirt. 

“Chamomile,” Phil says as he hands her the mug. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

She takes the offering. “I feel fine.” Coulson arches a brow at her, so she gestures half-heartedly at the manila folder in his hands. “Something you want to go over?”

“Reports,” he answers. “So I have something to do between telling you to relax and rest. Drink your tea, it’ll make your throat feel better.”

There’s a small desk in May’s room. Phil tosses the folder down on top of it and then pulls out the chair. It’s oriented so that his back would be to the bed and that’s not gonna work for him, so he pulls it over to the other end so that the door is in front of him and he just has to turn his head a bit to see the bed.

He doesn’t miss the way Melinda rolls her eyes and then sips delicately from the hot tea. 

Several minutes pass in familiar silence. Phil hates reports, but he’s doing his best to focus on getting them done when the soft shuffling of feet distracts him. Melinda has crossed the room to place her now empty mug on the table. 

Phil raises his eyes to her face.

“I’m cold.”

He tries not to smile. The corner of his mouth starts to pull back, though, and then he gives her a knowing smile. A quirk of the lips is her response.

Reports forgotten, Phil stands and shucks his chin toward the bed. “C’mon,” he says softly. He unbuttons his shirt and hangs it over the back of the chair and kicks off his shoes. At least if his white undershirt is wrinkled no one will notice.

Melinda climbs into bed and settles onto her side. She’s facing the door (she usually does) and Phil climbs in under the blankets behind her. He’s pulling the blanket up over their shoulders when the moment of doubt threatens to smack him in the face.

Melinda curtails that by inching back until his chest is flush against her back. She bends her knees a little and sighs, and Phil goes out on a limb and drapes an arm around her waist. 

This is new territory for them. They’ve been taking their relationship in a new direction step by slow step, but this … this is a learning experience. 

“Better?” he asks.

A heartbeat passes. Then, Melinda turns her back on the door without dislodging his arm and tucks her head up beneath his chin. Her forehead is too warm. If her fever hasn’t broken by tomorrow morning he’ll have Jemma check on her. 

He realizes that the lights are still on moments before Melinda’s breathing slows down and evens out. 

It’s just after noon on a Tuesday, and the lights are on, and he’s still in his slacks, but Phil is asleep in moments. 

They wake close to eleven at night starving and damp because May has sweat out her fever. They take separate showers - that’s not a step they’re ready for, yet - and Phil rummages them up some light food and returns to May’s room.

They’re asleep again in an hour; May skips Tai Chi in the morning. 

It’s the best night of sleep either of them has had in months.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hello! If in case you'll be lacking in prompts (which I doubt hehe), I hope you consider Philinda + Jealousy? Anywhere you wish to take it! I already know it's going to turn out awesome in any case because it's you writing. :-) Thank you so much!

At first, Phil hadn’t been jealous of Andrew. He’d only just become aware of the tension between him and May when she met the other man, really, so there hadn’t been time for jealousy. Maybe a pang of it here or there, but overall he’d just been happy for her.

The jealousy had come later. 

Being aware of the sexual tension between them had only complicated matters, because it wasn’t like he could just go back to being unaware - and that tension hadn’t disappeared just because May was happily involved with another man. Phil had wished many times that it would, though. 

Instead, it’d only intensified. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t acknowledge it, but that’d hardly mattered. The more time they’d spent together the worse it became, until one day Phil had realized that he was jealous of Melinda May’s husband. 

He’s gotten better at handling that jealousy over the years, and even better than that at hiding it - pushing it away and turning a blind eye. He’s never had a right to be jealous.

Phil has spent so many years wanting to walk down that road with May - wanting her good morning kisses, and anniversaries, and everything else - that it’s never occurred to him that there might someone out there who is jealous of his place in her life. 

Fittingly, perhaps, it’s none other than Melinda’s ex-husband that professes to being jealous. 

“Jealous?” Phil asks, stunned. “Of me?”

Andrew laughs. “Yes, of you. Melinda shares something with you that she never shared with me, or anyone else for that matter. It’s unique to you. The bond you share is a cornerstone in Melinda’s life.”

And that idea sticks with Phil until it turns into a knife in his side when Melinda goes on vacation with Andrew and rekindles their romance - and leaves Phil behind once again. 

* * *

“You know, Robot May was way more supportive.”

“Is she what happened to the Haig?”

And Phil exults somewhere deep in his heart, because she’s jealous! Melinda is jealous of a robot version of herself and maybe it doesn’t have to do with him directly, but still. 

Then, she says, “Maybe some of it was real,” and Phil’s heart leaps.

Maybe he’s not the only one who has had to learn to hide their jealousy. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: hi! can I request coulson taking care of may’s leg after they returned to Earth? i was hoping that this can relate to your ‘coulson can do anything including taking care of the stubborn af melinda may’ fic? maybe? :) thanks!

They’ve all agreed that they get tonight. They get tonight to take a breath, to sleep in their own beds, to reset themselves with ten hours of peace in a safe place. 

Tomorrow, they’ll face it all and start finding solutions.

Tonight, they just get to be.

Simmons has one thing she needs to take care of, though, and she can’t push it off until tomorrow in good conscience.

“Let’s have a look at that leg, May.”

“It can wait,” the other woman says immediately.

Jemma almost sighs. Instead, she fixes May with her best version of the Doctor’s Glare. “It’s waited long enough.”

May is going to protest, because she of all people has earned - and needs - a night in her own bed. Unseen by the others, however, a hand reaches out to press gently against her back.

(Maybe not so unseen.)

“Don’t make me carry you,” Phil says quietly.

He’s teasing for the most part, but they’re all tired and May’s emotions have taken a lot of hits lately, so the hushed tone and nearness of him almost makes her shiver. 

On a more practical note, he did just carry Daisy through the portal, so it’s probably more of a possibility than a threat. 

Phil takes her silence as acquiescence. He nods at Jemma and turns with May when she does, and it’s clear that he’s going with her as they set off down the hall.

Jemma catches up to them when they’re almost to the med bay. She darts in front of them so she can start gathering the medical supplies she needs to tend the wound; Phil helps May over to one of the beds. 

“No chair?” May asks.

“She’ll need the light,” Phil replies. 

May turns her back on the bed and hoists herself up with a grimace. Phil hovers in front of her, ready to help if she needs it but anticipating that she won’t. 

Jemma unwraps the bandage. May makes a face when the last layer is pulled away because it sticks to the wound, which Jemma apologizes for. She assesses the injury as best she can, but May’s pants are dark and there’s enough dried blood around the area to make it difficult to gauge. 

Jemma glances at Phil, and then at May. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut your pants off.”

Strangely enough, it’s this prospect that seems to make Jemma nervous. Not overtly so, and maybe neither of them would pick up on it if they didn’t know her so well, but it’s there. 

“Sir,” she starts.

“He can stay,” May says immediately. 

Jemma says instead, “There are scissors on that desk there, top drawer. If you would please.”

Phil retrieves the item and returns to Jemma instructing May to lay back on the bed. 

“Feel free to take a nap,” Phil tells her. 

A snort is the only response he gets. 

Jemma begins the process of cutting May’s pants off. She starts with the injured leg, and it’s easy until she reaches the knee. She slows down considerably and angles the scissors to the outside, so that she can cut a straight line up the thigh that won’t go directly over the injury. Still, May’s expression gets tighter as the material pulls and scrapes over the raw edges of her skin. 

“Sorry,” Jemma says.

“Breathe,” Phil reminds her. 

May takes a steadying breath. She shivers once, a betrayal of her body that could be due to anything from chills to pain. 

Phil disappears for a minute and then returns as Jemma makes the last cut through the waist band of the jeans. He has a blue medical blanket in his hands, which he sets aside for now. 

“I need to cut you out of the other side,” Jemma realizes then. 

“It’s fine,” May tells her.

She struggles for a minute as she realizes that she can’t brace herself on her good leg and still get the jeans off, and she can’t brace herself on her bad leg without being in pain. 

“Come on,” Phil says as he steps from the spot near her head to one at her hip. 

Jemma watches silently as Coulson helps May up into a seated position again. She leans forward and wraps her arms around his neck and then pulls herself up against his chest until her hips are off the bed. Phil grabs the mangled waist band of the jeans and slides them down until they’re bunched around her good thigh.

Jemma understands then that they’ve done this before. Coulson hadn’t even needed to explain to May what he wanted her to do, and there’s no awkwardness between them despite the fact that May is down to her underwear.

May lowers herself back to the bed; Coulson pulls the jeans the rest of the way off and then grabs the medical blanket and drapes it over her waist. He’s careful to make sure it stays away from the hole in her leg.

His thoughtfulness is touching.

“If you could roll to your side,” Jemma instructs. “I need to see the other side.”

May obliges, and Jemma gets to work. She pulls the little surgical table to her side and slowly cleans the site. Coulson stands on the side opposite her so he’s not in the way, near May’s shoulder, and keeps her company while Jemma works.

It feels like hours have passed when Jemma finally announces, “You’re lucky. The pipe missed any major arteries. There’s a lot of muscle damage, I’m afraid, and you’ll need physical therapy.”

May’s face darkens at the thought, and Phil remembers their conversation from the Zephyr. “If I can’t protect the team, then what?” she’d asked. Phil leans his hip on the bed and uncrosses his arms to put a hand on her arm.

“Hey,” he says softly. When May makes eye contact with him he says, “You’re more than the muscle, Melinda.”

“Phil …”

“I need you,” he cuts her off. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

They’re not alone, so May doesn’t say anything. The look that passes between them is heavy and intimate though, another in a long list of meaningful moments of silence that they share. 

Jemma stitches her up and lets them go with stern words to May about needing to rest and not aggravating the wound further. May hands Phil the medical blanket and sort of shimmies herself off the bed. She probably doesn’t need to, but she reaches out a hand to grasp Phil’s shoulder and leans some weight on him as she settles herself on her feet.

“Thank you, Jemma,” May says.

The other woman smiles and waves her away. Phil hands her back the blanket to wrap around her waist, and they set out together. 

“So,” May starts after a few steps, “what is it you need me for?”

“Everything,” he answers. 

She’s half dressed, injured, and exhausted; May stops walking and when Phil does the same she doesn’t hesitate to kiss him. 

They’ve earned this. 


	15. In Which Melinda May Takes Her Dares Very Seriously

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Philinda + the team playing spin the bottle truth or dare.

It’s mid-afternoon on a Sunday, and one of the rare days when they’re all in the same place with relatively little to do. Jemma, Fitz, and Daisy congregate in the common area by chance (or some internal barometer they have that tells them where the others are). They’re bored but unwilling to commit to any serious activity, so for a while they just sit around talking about things they could do. 

It’s Daisy that stands and retrieves an empty bottle after Fitz attempts a joke about asinine games they played in their youth. 

“What are we …” Jemma starts to ask, and then her face falls when she sees Daisy sit cross legged on the floor and put the bottle down on its side in front of her. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Daisy says. “We’ll have to change it up a bit, obviously, so we’ll make it more of a truth or dare thing. C’mon, get over here.”

Jemma and Fitz glance at each other and hesitate. Daisy wiggles her eyebrows at them, which makes Jemma crack a smile, and they both leave the couch to plop down on the floor with her. 

“What else have we got to do?” Fitz asks.

“So, each of us will take a turn spinning the bottle. Whoever it points to gets to choose truth or dare.”

The first few rounds Jemma and Fitz both pick truth, and Daisy picks dare. As they start to warm up to the hilarity of the game, however, they start to step out of their comfort zones.

Jemma is halfway through her impersonation of Mack - Daisy’s assigned dare - when a voice behind her says, “What the hell is this?”

That’s how Mack and Yoyo end up on the floor with them, and how Coulson finds them fifteen minutes later laughing uproariously as Yoyo regales them with the story of the time she found her first boyfriend parading around in nothing but a pink feather boa and fake tiara.  

It’s Mack’s turn and he gives the bottle a serious spin. It stops in the empty space between Daisy and Jemma, and everyone follows the invisible line … and suddenly finds themselves staring at May, who’s leaning silently against the wall. 

“Truth or dare,” Daisy whispers.

No one expected her to be there, but they really don’t expect to hear, “Dare.”

The attention turns to Mack. “Uh … I dare you to, uh …” he glances around the room in consternation and then finishes lamely, “prank someone in this room.”

Daisy rolls her eyes at him in exasperation and Fitz throws up his hands as Mack gives them both a silent “What?” May just arches an eyebrow.

In his spot sitting on the floor, Phil does his best not to smile. 

“Done,” May says.

And she walks out. 

They’re all so confused that no one bothers to look at Phil, who has raised a hand to his face in a false move to rub his nose but is really only interested in hiding his smirk. The rest of the team seems to think that May has simply abandoned the game in light of its frivolity, and perhaps at a point a few years ago Phil would have thought the same, but he’d seen that devilish gleam in her eye when she walked out. Seen it and rejoiced, because she has healed - is still healing in new and wonderful ways. 

They play for another hour, until responsibilities and briefings and dinging computers pull them back into the daily grind. 

Everyone puts the game behind them. They forget, and slide into a false sense of security. 

Until three days later, when the lot of them are summoned to one of the smaller, less used team rooms for a mission debriefing. 

“So, what’s the word?” Daisy asks.

“On what?” Phil responds.

Mack gives him a funny look. “On the mission. What do you mean, on what?”

“What mission? There is no mission,” Phil retorts.

There’s about fifteen seconds of confused silence in which they all just sort of stare at each other, and Phil has a split second to say, “Damn.”

A sudden  _pop!_ reverberates through the room, eliciting surprised yells and shrieks and no small amount of flinching, and then everything is just … glitter. 

“What the hell?” Fitz asks in the intervening silence. 

Then, Daisy starts to laugh. “Did we just get glitter bombed?”

“No way,” Jemma mutters.

Phil blinks. There’s glitter on his eyelashes, and it’s still floating down from the ceiling, and it’s  _everywhere_. It’s gonna take hours - maybe even days - to get all of it cleaned up. But Mack is standing expressionless in the middle of the room with a blanket of glitter on his head and he looks so … fed up and exasperated that Phil starts to laugh. 

Daisy’s laughter joins in, and then Jemma’s, until everyone is laughing except Mack. He’s just staring at the door, and he must have known or at least been expecting it because the door casually swings open seconds later and there’s May standing in the doorway with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. She’s staring right at Mack. 

Mack opens his mouth to speak and glitter falls from his lips. “Someone. I said ‘someone’ in the room, not everyone.”

“Couldn’t choose,” May retorts. “Glitter looks good on you.”

And it’s Fitz that guffaws then, a deep belly laugh that doubles him over and displaces a whole cloud of glitter. 

“This isn’t funny,” Mack says. Then he shakes himself from head to toe like a giant animal and it’s so ridiculous that everyone is laughing, including Mack and May. 

It’s Piper almost an hour later that furrows her brows at Phil and leans forward to pluck something off the collar of his shirt. “Sir?” she questions as she studies the thing on her finger. “Is that … glitter?”

And Phil keeps his face as neutral as he can when he replies, “Long story.” 

May absolutely doesn’t smile when Piper turns away and Phil winks at her across the room. 


	16. McScruff the Crime Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Philinda prompt?? After their time in space Phil goes to shave but Melinda tells him she likes the scruffy look?
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry about that title ... I'm feeling a bit silly today.

The thing about Phil’s relationship with Melinda is that it rarely goes the way he expects. 

He’d thought, all those years ago, that Melinda would break up with her civilian boyfriend and they’d finally go out for drinks - she’d married him instead; he’d thought that she’d ask to be taken out of the field to concentrate on the family planning thing - she’d stayed instead; and so on and so forth. Phil has learned in the intervening years what to expect from their relationship, and from Melinda, and what not to; they operate within a defined set of parameters. They do deviate from them on occasion, but even those deviations have a line (or lines) that they don’t cross. 

The team doesn’t take it well when Phil tells them about his deal with the Ghost Rider and that pesky little truth of “Also, I’m dying. Oops.”

Melinda takes it worse, though she doesn’t express just how worse until they’re alone. 

That Phil expects. He has a decent handle on the way that May reacts to things. 

She’s angry at him, of course. Phil understands and let’s May chastise him for being reckless and stupid and whatever else she feels like calling him. He lets her tell him what a fool he is for telling them that they can’t try to save him, because there’s no way they’re just going to let him die and he’s a pigheaded fool for thinking otherwise. 

Phil expects the moment that May’s anger disappears and leaves only her sadness staring back at him; the softness in her face and the barely discernible sheen of tears in her eyes as she slows down; the little slump of her shoulders as the fire runs out. 

They stare at each other for several heartbeats. Phil expects that May will say something touching now, maybe something along the lines of “We’re not going to let you die”, and then storm out of the room to go and plan how exactly she’s going to keep his inevitable death from happening this time. 

One of those things happens. Sort of.

What Phil doesn’t expect is for May to cross the distance that separates them and step in close enough that she has to tip her head back slightly to look up at him. 

“I’m tired of always letting you go,” she admits.

May is damn good at saying something sweet. 

And then she kisses him, and this is not how Phil anticipated this moment going when it’d first started. 

Phil kisses her back. The Jiminy Cricket in his brain is yelling at him to stop because this a bad idea and unfair and a whole slew of other things, but he’s slow to listen. He’s wanted this - wanted Melinda for so long that only a stronger man than he could immediately resist.

But Jiminy Cricket has the right of it, so Phil forces himself to do the right thing and pulls away - only to be stopped by Melinda. 

“Melinda …”

“I know what you’re doing,” she cuts him off. “And I’m telling you: don’t do it.”

“I’m just trying to do what’s right. You’ve been hurt enough, May.”

“I know you believe that, Phil, but what’s right is letting me make my own choices, and I choose this. I choose you, and us, for as long as we have.”

Well, damn. What defense could he possibly have for that? 

And why the hell would he want one?

Melinda goes with him to his room that night and they wrap themselves around each other with something between impatient need and heartfelt tenderness. Phil is hesitant at first to show her the visible damage his body has sustained, but she’s not having any of that. Her face contorts when she sees the menacing black lines radiating across his torso, but she doesn’t shrink from him or change her mind. 

May gets up with him in the morning but foregoes tai chi. Again, unexpectedly, she watches him from the bed as he stands in front of the mirror in his room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s laid out the shaving cream and his razor on the edge of the sink and is surveying the scruff that’s gone unchecked before shaving it off. 

Melinda rises from the bed and Phil watches her in the mirror. She’s in one of his blue button up shirts and nothing else. The buttons are undone and the front is hanging open; the shirt reaches mid-thigh on her. 

Suddenly, Phil loves that shirt. 

He angles himself toward her slightly without stepping away from the sink. Melinda stops before him and reaches up to brush a hand across his cheek - across his short, scruffy beard. 

“Leave it,” she says. She leaves her hand on his cheek and presses a kiss to his mouth, then another. “I like the scruffy look. Looks good on you.”

Sometimes, the best thing about his relationship with Melinda is that it rarely goes the way he expects. 


	17. Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this wasn't a prompt, just a little ficlet that I found in my drafts folder. It's obviously obsolete in the face of canon at this point, but I don't think any of us care, huh? 
> 
> Just an idea for how things could have played out with Melinda finding about her LMD. Takes place before the whole future storyline.

Their home is in ruins around them.

Their people - their family is wounded and faltering beneath the weight of two lifetimes.

They’ve lost people, good people. 

Phil stands in the wreckage and breathes. He’s a grim, quiet sentinel of nothing; of loss. Staring at the charred remains of the Playground makes him ache, so he turns his back on the damage and heads for his room.

A shadow coalesces at his side. They are silent for a long time before she speaks.

“How did you know she wasn’t me?”

He doesn’t want to break this too, but he has to believe that they can persevere. They’ve made it through so much - a kiss can’t be the thing to break them. 

“I kissed her.” 

Coulson turns his head toward May as they walk and finds her studying him. She doesn’t look as surprised as he expected, and hadn’t made a sound at his admission. Her expression is contemplative. It’s not a mask of indifference, so he’ll take that as a hopeful sign.

“To be fair, I thought she was you.”

“You drank the Haig with her.” He starts to protest but she continues, “because you thought she was me.”

“Those were two separate events, by the way. One was not influenced by the other.”

“You said it was the little things that gave away the lie.”

“It was the kiss.”

For a heartbeat she just stares at him, and then the smallest, slyest smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “You saying I was a bad kisser?”

“Not bad,” he answers quickly. “Just not right.”

They’ve arrived at his room, so he opens the door and trusts her to follow him inside. He doesn’t even turn to see if she’s there. There’s a small kitchenette area in the far corner, and with any luck the power up here still works. He fishes out his electric kettle, two cups, and the tea he always keeps stocked in his cupboards. 

Phil is trying not to panic. A small hand presses against his shirt, and his movements still. Her hand is directly over the gnarled skin of the scar that ended his life. 

He turns his head to the side, but doesn’t turn. He can see her out of his peripheral vision, the amber of the emergency lighting turning the crown of her head gold. 

Melinda moves to his left and her hand slides over his back. Phil turns slightly to meet her, curious and uncertain, and the panic in his chest stills. In fact, everything stills.

Phil watches as Melinda leans up and in. He has time to move away, but they both know that he won’t. 

 _Real_ , his heart sings at the first press of their lips.  _This is real!_

He turns to face her fully. His fingers brush over her jaw as he tangles his hand in her hair and grasps her waist with the other hand, drawing her closer. There should be more consideration here, more deliberation, but May is finally safe - and here. The horror of realizing that she’d disappeared right from under his nose, and that he didn’t know how to save her – it’s those moments of stress that make him feel old.

Phil is the one to pull away. If he doesn’t stop now … well. They have time, and he wants to get this right.

“Better?” May teases. She shows no sign of moving out of his arms.

“Best.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: If you are still doing Philinda prompts could you maybe do something with Phil talking to Melinda about watching Cap sleep and helping to redesign Cap's suit?
> 
>  
> 
> I set this one more toward the beginning of the show.

Melinda is accustomed to the excited little rants Phil goes on about things he’s passionate about. Old spy tech, movies, and history, just to name a few - and that’s not including Captain America. His rants about Cap spiral out of control quickly, and Melinda has had to pull him back more than once with a well timed look or outright interruption.

Skye calls them his “Nerd Rants”, and Melinda doesn’t say it but damn it all if the term doesn’t get stuck in her head. 

Phil can’t say a lot about his time with the Avengers. Melinda understands that and doesn’t press him for details. Though, Melinda can admit (to herself) that part of that probably has to do with the fact that thinking about his time with them will ultimately lead to thoughts of his death, and she just can’t be equanimous about that. 

There is an exception to that, however. Phil’s Nerd Rant about Cap is an energetic, heartfelt one that makes May smile more than once as she listens. Phil has finally met his hero, and she’s happy for him - even if she blocks out half of the details about the suit design, because that’s not really her wheelhouse.

“… Of course, then I made an ass of myself,” Phil is saying. They’re in the cockpit and Melinda has said little, but he knows she’s listening because she always does. “I basically told him that I watched him while he slept, which came off creepier than I intended.”

That gets an arched brow tossed over her shoulder at him, and he sighs and nods once. 

“I know, May, I know. Not my finest moment. He didn’t run screaming, at least. We were on a plane, so that might have had something to do with it.”

Melinda chuckles. She can picture the moment Phil realized what he said and tried to explain himself, and she’s never met Steve Rogers but she can imagine what his expression must have been in the moment. It’s just like Phil to meet his lifelong hero and then immediately stick his foot in his mouth.

“Only you,” she mutters. 

“It was a slip of the tongue,” Phil protests.

“You panicked.”

“I don’t panic. I knew exactly what I meant and …” May glares at him and changes mid-sentence, “okay, I panicked.”

He really is such a nerd. Melinda loves that about him. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Philindaisy + Accidentally witnessed kiss

Daisy expects the hall in the Lighthouse to be empty as she turns the corner. Instead, her eyes alight on something unexpected: Coulson and May standing alone in the middle of the hall, facing each other. Daisy barely has time to process what she’s seeing when May suddenly reaches up and frames his face with gentle hands. 

She says something too soft for Daisy to hear - and, really, she doesn’t need to hear it, and she doesn’t need to see this, but she feels stuck. Daisy thinks she might be witnessing a goodbye … and maybe a hello. 

Then they both move, as in sync as they always are, and Daisy can feel the bittersweetness of their kiss from her spot in the half-shadowed bend of the hall. 

Phil says something and touches his forehead to hers. They stay that way for a moment and then he turns and leaves. May bows her head and wipes at her face, and Daisy knows that she’s banishing the evidence of her tears. 

Daisy leaves as quietly as she can.

Head bowed and heart bruised, Melinda folds Phil’s words close to her heart and vows to wait as long as it takes.

_“I’ll come back for you.”_

He’s a man of his word.


	20. Keeping it Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't a prompt. Just something I thought of after the 100th.

After the festivities, Melinda goes looking. 

She’s learned the Lighthouse well enough to know where she’s going, but not quite well enough to know the places her family hides. 

So, Melinda searches. 

She eventually finds Daisy at the top of a short, cement staircase. She’s sitting with her legs under the bottom rail and dangling over the side, and her arms folded on the rail above that. Daisy has her chin pillowed on her arms. She watches May approach wordlessly.

May lowers herself to the cement, which is cool even through her jeans, and mirrors the young woman’s position. 

They sit in silence for a while. 

“I remember the day I met Fitzsimmons,” Daisy finally says. “They seemed so young.”

Melinda snorts. “You were all young. Had no business being in the field.”

Daisy nods once, but more in acknowledgement than agreement. “That’s not what I mean, though. I looked at them and I remember thinking, here are two people who know nothing of the world. How hard it is, how unforgiving.”

Melinda doesn’t respond. She remembers those first days, too. She remembers how new they’d all been, how bright and shiny all of the kids seemed - and how dark and broken Melinda had felt in their presence. 

Melinda had shown up for Phil, and she’d kept showing up for him - until one day, she’d realized that she was showing up for all of them.

“It’s more than a team and you know it,” she has told Phil, and oh, how she means it. 

“I kept waiting to be left behind,” Daisy murmurs. “To be kicked out, or sent away, but that never happened. Even when I screwed up … even when I deserved it, it never happened. Coulson just …”

Her voice is too choked with tears to continue. Melinda finally turns her head to study Daisy’s profile. There’s a tear track on her cheek that she doesn’t bother to acknowledge; there’s a cut on her cheek that’s almost in the same place and the same length as the one Phil sports on the same cheek; she really does look like she could be Melinda’s daughter. 

“Phil doesn’t give up on people,” Melinda says. 

“Except himself, apparently.”

“He hasn’t given up on himself, Daisy. And we haven’t given up on him either.”

Daisy turns to look at May. The sadness in her face is a mirror to the sadness that weighs down Melinda’s chest, and Melinda has told Phil that Daisy isn’t his daughter but she’s wrong. No one will forget Cal, but he was Daisy’s father - Phil is her dad. Phil is the one who has given her the things she’s always longed for, and needed. 

Phil is the provider. 

Melinda takes a chance. She raises her left arm and, swallowing against the hesitancy she feels, reaches around Daisy’s shoulders. The young woman looks surprised for a second, but then lets herself sink gratefully into Melinda’s side. She drops her head onto Melinda’s shoulder. 

 _Family_ , Melinda’s heart whispers. 

“I’m sorry.”

Melinda’s brow furrows. “For what?”

“For ever thinking you were emotionless. For all of the mean things I’ve said, and turning on you, and …”

Melinda squeezes her shoulders. “You were forgiven a long time ago, Daisy. But thank you.”

Another few minutes pass in silence and then Daisy says, “He can’t die. What will we do without him?”

Melinda sighs. That’s a question she’s been asking herself without cease since they found out, and none of the answers she’s come up feel like enough. 

What will I do without him? Melinda has been asking herself that one, too. She doesn’t want to be forced to figure it out for a second time. 

Melinda doesn’t want to be left behind again. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Melinda answers. She hopes desperately that it’s true. “And if we don’t …,” it burns to think about, and aches to say, “then we’ll do what he’ll want us to and carry on. We’ll live our lives in ways that’ll make him proud.”

Daisy sniffles. Melinda thinks about Robin, and then Daisy: the daughters she somehow has, and has not, raised. 

Melinda doesn’t have the bond with Daisy that Phil does, and she doesn’t know if she can keep them all together the way he has - Phil is their rallying point, and their glue, and the center of their world and family - but Melinda will do her best. If they really are going to be forced to live without him, then Melinda will do whatever it takes to keep their family together. 

For him, but also for them. 

“You don’t either, you know,” Daisy whispers. “Give up on people.”

The words shoot straight through Melinda and land in her heart as surely as any arrow. Melinda fights down the sudden tightness in her throat and swelling of her heart, and instead takes a deep breath. She squeezes Daisy’s shoulders again. 

Melinda doesn’t know that those words are true - it feels like she’s given up on plenty of people - but she hopes they are. 

They sit together for a while after that. They’re silent again, but the silence is peaceful and familiar; reassuring. 

When Daisy does lift her head, signaling May to drop her arm, they draw in their legs and help each other to their feet. Daisy’s cheeks are dry. She’s still sad - they both are - but her determination is back. 

“Thank you,” Daisy says. On impulse, she pulls May into a hug. “We’ll be okay.”

Melinda musters up a smile for the young woman and then watches as she disappears down the hall. She’s either off to find Fitzsimmons, or start figuring out a way to save Phil. 

 _We’ll figure this out_ , they’ve both said. Melinda believes it; she has to. 

But, even if they don’t … 

Melinda goes looking again. 


	21. Cooking Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Here’s a prompt of you’re still taking them: Phil trying to teach Melinda how to cook/bake plus strong sexual tension.

Melinda looks downright scandalized when Phil tells her she’s gonna help him cook their dinner. He smiles and ushers her over to the stove, where everything is already set up and waiting. 

“This was your plan all along,” she grouses. 

“Oh, come on,” Phil responds, “you’ll enjoy it.”

“I hate cooking,” she reminds him. 

“Try. For me?”

Melinda glares at him. Phil decides not to push his luck more by smiling at her, so he stares back and waits. 

“You’re not allowed to say anything when I ruin it.”

He does smile then. “You won’t ruin it.”

Phil has chosen something hearty and simple for dinner: steak, asparagus, and fingerling potatoes. Steak is a treat for them. They eat relatively well on base, but steak is too expensive to buy for so many people more than once or twice a year. It’s a good holiday meal.

This isn’t a holiday, though. This is just the two of them having dinner after a hard week of getting beat up and saving the masses, so Phil had bought them some nice steaks and asked Melinda to dinner.

Well, platonically speaking, of course. 

Mostly.

On her part, probably.

“Okay,” Phil says, “bake the potatoes?”

Melinda looks at him like he’s crazy. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

He bites back a smile. “Nope. Would you rather bake them? That’s what I normally do, but we can boil and mash them if you prefer. Takes a little longer, but it’s up to you.”

Melinda sighs. “Bake.”

“Bake it is. Skins on or off?”

“This is already exhausting.”

Phil laughs and inwardly high fives himself when Melinda cracks a small smile. She has a great smile. 

“On,” she says.

Phil retrieves a baking dish and the potatoes and rinses them. “Preheat the oven to five hundred degrees.”

For awhile that’s all it is: Phil gives directions, and Melinda follows them. It’s not the same as when they’re in the field, though. These directions are gentler, more … well, intimate. He’s guiding rather than directing. 

They move around each other as they work until the potatoes are in the oven and the asparagus are on a low burner, and they’re standing together at the stove. They’re using two burners so they can make both steaks simultaneously; their shoulders are a solid line of contact.

“Spices,” Phil says. “We have a decent selection. What are we using?”

Melinda thinks about giving him a sassy answer and then lets the thought go. He’s been so patient, and cooking with him has been nice even though cooking in general isn’t her favorite thing to do, so the sass doesn’t need to make an appearance. Instead, she surveys the spice rack that stands against the wall near the stove. 

“Lemon pepper, paprika, coriander, and red pepper flakes.”

Phil grins at her. Melinda’s heart does uncomfortable things in response. “Have you seen me make steaks before?” he asks.

“I’m sure I have at some point, why?”

“Except for the lemon pepper, that’s what I usually season with.”

He looks so pleased about it that Melinda doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she has (tried) to make steak before and that she’s used all of those seasonings before. 

Melinda seasons hers to taste first and then passes each seasoning to Phil. Red pepper flakes are last but he’s still using the paprika, so Melinda sets the flakes down next to her to wait until he’s ready. 

She’s studying her steak though and trying to gauge whether or not it’s ready to be flipped when Phil is done, so he leans back a little and stretches an arm around her back to reach for the red pepper flakes. One side of his chest is suddenly pressed into her arm and she can feel his breath on the side of her neck, and for a moment Melinda’s brain simply goes blank.

They’ve been this close before, of course. They’ve been in all kinds of positions over the years, both in and out of the field, so there’s nothing particularly special about this moment - save for the domesticity of it all. They’re safe in the base kitchen, alone for the time being, and it feels … real. It feels like everything it should be, exhilarating and familiar and promising, and everything Melinda wants. 

Melinda turns her head and blinks. Phil’s face is close. His eyes lock onto hers and there’s a heavy charge between them. 

His arm is sliding across her back again, just a soft brush through her t-shirt, and it would take hardly anything to bring their lips together. 

Then he’s gone with a little smile and red ears, and the moment passes. 

Their meal is finished not long after, and Phil surprises her - again - by insisting that they switch steaks. He eats the one she’s made, and she eats the one he’s made. 

Phil insists that it’s delicious and she’s done well, but Melinda doesn’t believe him until he cuts her a piece and she finds herself leaning over the table to take it off his fork. She makes the mistake of making eye contact with him again, and she hadn’t meant it to be sensual, but …

Phil’s cheeks flush as Melinda closes her lips around his fork and her dark eyes flick up to stare at him, and he has to breathe slowly and count to fifty as she settles back in her seat.

“Now do you believe me?” Phil asks, and if his voice is a bit huskier neither of them mention it. 

Teaching Melinda to cook might turn out to be more dangerous than either of them have anticipated. 

 


	22. To Carry Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Philinda + 27 for the cuddle prompts??
> 
> 27\. First cuddle
> 
> (Look, I could be talked into believing that their first cuddle happened some time years ago, maybe on a mission or just when they were younger and freer in general, but … that’s not where my brain went, okay?)

Phil is relieved to open his door and find Melinda on the other side. 

“Hey,” he greets her softly. 

He doesn’t try to talk her out of being here. He simply moves out of the doorway and lets her in, closing the door behind her and turning around. He has hoped both that she wouldn’t come looking for him, and that she would; his heart exults to have her here now. 

Despite what he said about her not needing another lost cause, he can never truly regret being one of hers. He’s so grateful for her presence in his room; in his life. 

Phil has already taken off his jacket and exchanged his jeans for sweats. He tires faster now, yet another indicator of his deteriorating heart. 

Melinda looks at him like she has heard his thoughts. Jemma’s words hang between them: “At some point, sir, your heart will simply stop beating.”

There are tears in her eyes again. Phil is sorry for that, for all of it: their missed chances, and unspoken words, and lost time. 

The life they have yet to live.

“Melinda …”

God, he just doesn’t know what to say. 

Melinda shrugs off her jacket and tosses it carelessly onto the single chair in the room. She toes off her boots and then crosses the room, smaller and shorter than she usually is, and simply wraps herself around him. Her arms settle around his waist; she grabs her wrist to lock her arms around him. She places an ear over his heartbeat and breathes with the sound. 

Phil sighs and hugs her tightly. He presses his lips into her hair. They stand anchored together in the emptiness, and if it were possible Melinda’s arms around him would be all the cure he needed. 

“Does this hurt?” Melinda asks.

Of all the things that make Phil tear up, it’s that. Of course it hurts to have what he wants here at the end, and be too stubborn to claim it while he can - to have been too frightened to claim it earlier; of course it hurts to think of what he’s doing to them, and what his (second) death will do to Melinda all over again. 

His lack of an answer brings Melinda’s head up and away from his chest. Phil doesn’t bother trying to hide the twin tears standing on his cheeks. Melinda doesn’t pretend not to see them.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m …” 

Melinda kisses him. It’s tender and sweet, but there’s a hint of desperation waiting at the edges. 

“Come on,” Melinda says when she pulls away. “You need to rest.”

Phil doesn’t argue. He climbs into the bed and then thinks to offer to find Melinda some sweats or something comfortable to wear. She’s already climbing in to the bed with him, though, and now that he’s stopped moving he’s aware of how tired he feels. 

Melinda lowers herself into the spot next to him and then pulls up the blankets. The lights are already mostly off - Phil probably would have been asleep soon if Melinda hadn’t come for him - and the room is quiet. Melinda stretches herself along Phil’s side. He holds his arm out and waits for her to pillow her head on his shoulder before wrapping his arm up and around her waist. His breath catches a little when he realizes that her t-shirt has ridden up, and his fingers brush the bare skin at her hip. 

They’re quiet for several moments. Phil knows that Melinda is listening to his heart beat and trying not to wonder about how much longer she’ll get to hear the sound. 

(How can something so strong be so fragile, she wonders? 

They are all living testaments to that contradiction.)

Melinda raises her head suddenly. She props herself up just enough that her face is above his, and the curtain of her hair falls forward to brush against his cheek. 

“I’d waste a lifetime with you,” she whispers. “I love you, Phil.”

He kisses her like they have a lifetime, like it can last forever - like their forever hasn’t been cut brutally short. 

Maybe forever has always been waiting for them here, on the edges of everything they’ve ever known. 

Maybe this is all forever is, in the end: the finite beat of a heart you love, and the lifetimes you live between one beat and the next. 

“I love you, too,” Phil says. 

Melinda settles back into her spot on his chest. Phil breathes deeply and relishes the weight of her body against him. He has a little time left. Not as much as he’d like, but they’ll have a tomorrow. Tonight, they’ll rest and recover from the days blows - and its victories. Tomorrow will be a new day; tomorrow he’ll cross that last divide with Melinda and they’ll live new lifetimes while they can.

She’ll have to carry their forever for them both, now. 


End file.
